Mind Tricks
by Falfaly
Summary: Han continues to struggle with the after-effects of carbonite and torture. Will Leia be his only hope? [Sequel to Committed. Set post-ROTJ, originally titled Tricks of the Mind. Warnings: language, sexual situations, mental health issues, suicide.]
1. Chapter 1

**Mind Tricks**

**by Corellian Blue**

_(first published 2003, revised 2016, 2020)_

_Trigger warnings: mental health issues, suicide_

_**I**_

* * *

The ashes were still smouldering when Han Solo pulled up on a borrowed speeder bike.

He remained on the bike, staring at the remains—ashes; charred wood; charcoal; warped, black armour. Smoke curled in his nostrils, and the thud of the speeder's idling engines pounded in his ears. A chill prickled the hair on the back of his neck, and for a moment he felt certain someone was watching him. But there was no sign of life in the small clearing. There was nothing here except for himself, the shuttle Luke had used to flee from the Death Star and the remains of Darth Vader.

It hadn't been difficult to locate the clearing. Luke had explained to Han that he had escaped from the Death Star as it had collapsed around him, and eventually landed a stolen shuttle a few kilometres from the Ewok village. Using his lightsaber to slice up dry, fallen timber, the young Jedi had constructed a pyre and burnt Vader's body.

_Luke's father,_ Han reminded himself. And Leia's father as well.

It had been difficult to wrap his brain around the idea that Luke and Leia were siblings. It had seemed an overly convenient reason for Luke to drop out of the race to court Leia, but one Han was more than willingly to grab hold of and hang on for all he was worth.

It had meant he could stop believing his delusional thinking that Leia was set on discarding him in favour of Luke, even though Han knew without doubt that Leia loved him. His recent disturbing behaviour should've been enough for any woman to re-consider whether he was worth the effort; Han would've dumped _himself_ if he'd been Leia.

Han had totally misread what he'd thought the princess had wanted to tell him as he had tended to her wound. He had put his error down to the anxiety that had shadowed his every step since his release from the carbonite; the same affliction that made him irritable and caused his right hand to shake—an oppressive despair weighing down his shoulders since his return from Tatooine.

His symptoms were disruptive enough that he had sought out medical help. His innate distrust of drugs had not made it easy for him to accept the drofic the doctor had prescribed for him. But the spice derivative had help to ease his anxiety, clear his mind and restored his confidence so that he felt comfortable in leading the Pathfinders task force to disable the Death Star's shield generator.

For a while, Han had felt like his old self, the way he had been before Bespin. Before he'd been tortured by Vader and imprisoned in carbonite. But his self-confidence had disappeared, along with the drofic capsules, during their third day on the forest moon of Endor.

The mission had started out smoothly. The four-day hyperspace trip to Endor had been circuitous but allowed them to hide their Rebel origins and had given Han the opportunity to settle into his new position as a field-commissioned general. He had even grown relaxed with Leia dispensing the medication to him every ten hours. He had suspected she took pleasure in playing this part in his recovery and was grateful it was one less thing he had to worry about.

General Crix Madine's strategy to land the task force on the moon had worked remarkably well. The encrypted code had provided the stolen shuttle with clearance to deliver parts and technical crew to the moon's Imperial base. Except the shuttle had conveniently 'developed' engine and repulsor trouble on descent through the atmosphere and had crashed some 50 kilometres from the shield generator, exploding on impact.

The Imperial search and rescue vessel that had surveyed the crash site would have detected no survivors, especially as Pathfinder members had safely disembarked once the shuttle had dipped below sensor range, before the shuttle had headed off on autopilot to meet a fiery end. The task force had been left with no means of escape from the forest moon, but they knew that if the Alliance failed to destroy the Death Star there would be no Rebel Fleet to return to.

The trek towards the shield generator had been uneventful. For Han, the most difficult thing had been keeping his temper with the droids. Luke had suggested that Artoo might prove useful in gaining access to the generator bunker, and consequently Threepio had been enlisted to act as translator for his astromech counterpart. Suitably camouflaged, the droids had joined the team.

The Pathfinders task force had been within ten kilometres of the shield generator when they encountered the first Imperial scouts. Part of a speeder bike patrol, the six scout troopers had parked themselves near a ford in a river and had been enjoying a meal break in the dappled sunshine. As it would have been difficult to cross the river with the two droids unless they had access to the ford, there had been no other choice but to take out the Imperial scouts.

The option of trekking around the scouts and the ford was not possible as they were unfamiliar with the topography and it would have taken additional time that wasn't available. The Rebel Fleet was on its way and the defensive shield around the Death Star needed to be disabled.

Han had conferred with his 2IC, Lieutenant Jax Perron, and Luke. They agreed that the squad needed to take the troopers out and it had to be done quietly. That was Han's first bad decision, which was surprising as he'd still been on the medication at that stage.

As the leader of the Pathfinders, Han had dispatched the junior members of his team to sneak up on the unsuspecting Imperial scout troopers. The Imperials had not gone down without a fight. A young Rebel corporal—the only woman in addition to Leia—had been killed in the skirmish. A felinoid squad trooper had also received a grievous chest wound. Three Imperial scouts were either killed or captured, but not before Luke and Leia had sped off on a speeder bike to chase down the other three who had escaped.

That had been another bad decision: allowing Leia to accompany him as part of the command crew.

Experience had proven that Leia would not be afraid to leap into the fray when things got tough. But Han should have recognised that his relationship with her would compromise his better judgement when it came to her safety. He had forced his team to lose precious time as they waited for Leia and Luke to return. They had used the precious time—time they did not have—to stabilise the wounded squad soldier and offer him empty words of encouragement.

After nearly an hour, Luke had come jogging back to the ford, hardly out of breath. He had become separated from Leia and was surprised and worried that she had not returned. At that point, Han's world had caved in on him. No quantity of medication could calm the fears he held for her or ease his anxiety.

The look of delight on the face of the only surviving Imperial scout trooper had pushed Han to the edge. The trooper's helmet had been removed, his arms and legs bound, his mouth gagged, but the triumphant glee in his eyes had been unmistakable. Han had instinctively reached for his blaster and pressed the muzzle to the trooper's temple. Luke had calmly reasoned with the Corellian that killing the scout trooper would not get Leia back. Han had argued that it would make him feel a whole lot better, but he hadn't pulled the trigger. Instead he had back handed the scout trooper across the face with his blaster.

Han's next mistake: send his team off to tackle the shield generator on their own, while he, Chewie and Luke had gone in search of Leia. Han's 2IC was a seasoned lieutenant with years of experience as a commando, and he had not questioned Han's decision. In fact, Jax Perron had even voiced his support; Leia was, after all, the Princess of Alderaan.

Han hadn't been entirely convinced by Perron agreeing with the decision so readily; he had suspected the elder man was simply happy to see the back of an over-promoted Corellian smuggler. Regardless, Han's first loyalty was to Leia, not the Alliance, and so he had parted company with his team, albeit with the promise of rendezvousing near the shield generator the following morning. Han had had no intention of fulfilling that promise unless he'd found Leia safe and well.

Han, Luke and Chewbacca settled their packs on their shoulders and had barely ventured ten metres away when two muffled blaster shots had echoed throughout the forest—the scout trooper and the mortally injured felinoid had been taken care of, revealing that Lieutenant Perron had the guts to make the calls when they mattered.

It had taken most of that day to locate Leia. Having the droids along had proven to be fortuitous for if Threepio had not sprung the trap that had ensnared them in a net, the Ewoks may never have captured them and taken them back to their village.

Leia had been holding onto the drofic capsules for Han, which meant it had been nearly twenty hours since his last dose of medication. The Corellian had been frantic for Leia's safety and furious that they had been delayed in their search, but Luke had convinced Han and Chewbacca to hand over their weapons to the Ewoks and allow themselves to be bound and taken prisoner. Luke had explained that he felt the fierce little creatures would be able to help them. But, as Han soon discovered, it had appeared that before they would receive that help, the Ewoks literally wanted a piece of him for dinner. His anger and distress had significantly ramped up.

When Leia had suddenly appeared along one of the village walkways, Han had been verging on the homicidal. The relief that had flooded through him at the sight of Leia had overwhelmed him. She had looked tired, a little dishevelled, and her fatigues were a good deal dirtier. The Ewoks had prevented her from approaching Han, but just the sight of her had slightly eased his irrational thinking.

Han was unsure exactly why the Ewoks had then freed them, but it had occurred shortly after he'd experienced one of the strangest delusions he'd had since his release from the carbonite: Threepio floating in a wooden throne, high across the forest canopy, screaming to be put down.

Han's reunion with Leia only solved half his problems. The adrenaline rush provided temporary relief from his symptoms, but he needed the drofic if he was going to survive the rest of the mission. He hadn't wanted to push Leia for the medication, hadn't wanted to make it look as though he was only happy to see her because she had his drugs, so he waited for a chance to ask her.

The Ewoks officially accepted them into their tribe and offered their assistance, and Han was starting to think that perhaps this mission might work out after all, that he might be able to make amends for some of the errors that had occurred. But while Han arranged to retrieve their weapons and sought additional supplies, Leia and Luke had disappeared from the hut.

Han's next mistake had been to go looking for them.

He had seen Luke and Leia from a distance, shadowy figures on a walkway, holding hands as they stood intimately close to one another, speaking in hushed voices.

Han had tried not to over-react, tried not to think the worst. Leia and Luke had always been close. He knew Leia loved _him_, not Luke. She had told him she loved him; they had been sleeping together since the flight to Bespin. And although the Corellian couldn't be sure what had happened between the princess and the young Jedi during the time he was frozen in carbonite, he was certain Leia would not betray him.

If he had known then what he knew now, Han may not have approached her. For this would have been when Luke had revealed to her that he was her brother and Vader was their father.

No wonder then that Leia had been distraught when Han had approached her and had found it difficult to respond to his demand that she tell him what was going on. Anger, anxiety and paranoia had clouded his judgement, and Han had grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to face him when she had turned her back.

"Could you tell Luke?" Han had snarled at her, his fingers digging into her arms. "Is that who you could tell?"

Han now closed his eyes in self-disgust.

_Is that who you could tell?_

There was no excuse for treating Leia so aggressively. No matter what his mental state.

_Is that who you could tell?_

He loved Leia. He would willingly kill or die for her.

_Is that who you could tell?_

It had taken her tears to bring Han to his senses. If anyone else had shaken the princess like that, they would've worn her fist in their jaw. But because Han had reacted this way towards her, she had cried.

Han had held her, wrapped his arms around her, hugged her to his chest, apologising for everything he had said, done and thought.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Leia's tears had not lasted long, and when she had lifted her head from his chest, her face held no accusations or recriminations.

Her sympathy toward him had brought on a new wave of self-loathing. She had excused his behaviour, refused to blame him for his treatment of her. He had hated himself even more when he asked her for his medication. To his own ears, he had sounded like a desperate drug addict.

Unfortunately, Leia had not been able to provide him with relief as the drofic capsules had been lost, along with her pack, during the high-speed pursuit through the forest.

Looking back on it now, Han had no idea how he'd managed to survive the rest of the mission. Perhaps adrenaline, or his need to protect Leia, had driven him on. He had reunited with his team, much to the disgust of Lieutenant Perron, Han suspected. There had been a few more questionable decisions on his part, a few fortuitous shots with a wavering blaster hand, and an awful lot of chance, good luck, and the surprising assistance of the Ewoks. In the end, they had succeeded.

The destruction of the Death Star had led Leia to reveal to Han that Luke was her brother. At first Han had thought he was hearing things, that this was another delusion his mind had conjured up. But she had assured and then re-assured him that it was so. She had, however, held off telling him about Vader until after the celebrations. Leia had left it until this morning, just after breakfast and before she returned to the medical frigate to attend to have her blaster injury.

_Vader is Leia's father._

They hadn't made love last night, but they hadn't successfully made love since Bespin; the-after- effects of the carbonite stretched all the way to the bedroom. Han wondered—even if he had been capable—whether he would've _wanted_ to make love to Leia if he had known then that Vader was her father. The revelation had shocked him to the core. How could she be the daughter of such a monster? There had to be some mistake. But then Luke had re-affirmed what she had told him, and he knew it was the truth.

_Vader is Leia's father._

The princess had given him space to come to terms with her heritage and departed for the medical frigate without him while he ostensibly remained behind to attend to repairs on the _Falcon_. She promised to return by that evening, having arranged a private celebration to be held on the _Falcon_ for Luke, Lando, Chewbacca and the two of them. She had also promised to bring back more medication for him.

That idea made him nauseous: Vader's daughter was supplying him with drugs. Drugs to combat the sickness that her _father_ had forced upon him. Drugs he loathed, but now relied upon for his sanity.

Han closed his eyes as a white-hot rage of self-disgust surged through him. His contemptible thoughts were not worthy of Leia—_he_ was not worthy of Leia.

Swallowing the bile that rose in his throat, he flicked off the engines and dismounted from the speeder bike. There was only one being who was responsible for all of this. The pain, the suffering.

_Vader._

Han unconsciously pulled the blaster from his holster as he strode towards the pyre. He was firing the DL-44 before he knew what he was doing, struggling to ignore the tremors in his fingers. The shot was off target, his accuracy affected by the shaking of his hand, and it sliced through a log of wood instead of the helmet he had aimed for. His failure inflamed his fury, burning through him, vibrant and uncontrollable.

Han brought his left hand up to steady his right, found it improved his aim as the blaster bolt ripped the armoured chest-plate apart. A memory of Bespin—aiming for the same spot on Vader's body—flashed through his mind, and he chased the remaining shards of armour through the ashes with repetitive blaster shots. His success fuelled his anger and he directed the laser bolt back towards the helmet, each pull of the trigger sparking a snarl to rise from deep within his throat.

Then just as quickly as he completed his final shot into the pyre, Han turned the blaster back on himself and brought it up to rest, double-handed, under his chin. He closed his eyes and gently squeezed the trigger.


	2. Chapter 2

**Mind Tricks**

**by Corellian Blue**

_(first published 2003, revised 2016, 2020)_

_Warnings: mental health issues_

_**II**_

* * *

Night was settling across the forest. The warmth from the afternoon sun was slowly fading, and calls of insects and nocturnal creatures echoed across the treetops. In the distance, the sounds of the Ewoks nestled high in their village could be heard.

Leia stretched her legs out, propped her arms behind her and tilted her head towards the sky. The twilight hues had faded, darkened, and the stars were now visible. Sitting out in the clearing, in the shadow of the _Millennium Falcon_ but away from the canopy of trees, it was the first time she had been able to see the night sky. The Endorian moon's atmosphere was pure and clear, and the stars shone brilliantly above her. Thinking about the stars only drew her thoughts back to Han.

Leia had returned from the medical frigate about two hours ago and had been disappointed to find that Han was not working on the _Falcon_. A slightly annoyed Chewbacca had told her that Solo had been missing for most of the day. He had no idea where the Corellian had gone, but when he turned up, the Wookiee promised to give him hell as the _Falcon_ was not going to repair herself.

Chewie hadn't appeared worried about Han, and Leia reasoned there was no need for her to be worried. However, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was not quite right, and most of her feeling was due to Han's behaviour.

Han had physically recovered from the hibernation sickness, but the effects of being frozen in carbonite for ten Standard months—a year of semi-consciousness, sensory deprivation, and constant mental and physical agony—haunted him.

Leia was concerned with how Han now perceived things. He seemed to have trouble filtering and processing the information his senses took in, and his emotional responses were off the scale. The medication he had been taking had only created an illusion of normality. Once he was off the drofic, reality had hit her again. She loved him and would continue to stand by him and do everything possible to help. But Han was not the man who had been taken from her on Bespin.

"He'll be here shortly," Luke quietly assured her.

Leia tugged at the bandage around her arm and glanced at her new-found brother. "I know."

It had never disturbed her before that Luke had the uncanny ability to sense her feelings. But now he was her brother as well as a Force user, she wondered to what extent her private life would become transparent to him. The thought slightly irked her. The last thing she wanted was Luke tapping into emotions and sensations when she was intimate with Han—_if_ they ever got that chance.

Luke did not look up as he placed kindling on the small fire he had lit, but she saw his smile in the flickering light.

"Then why are you worrying?" he asked her.

_Because I'm afraid Han might not be able to cope with the fact that I'm Vader's daughter. That's why. I can't even cope with it._

The thought was horrifying. The monster who had destroyed so much in the galaxy—the monster who revelled in inflicting pain and suffering—was her father. And on a more personal level, Vader had tortured herself and Han; had made her watch as Alderaan had been obliterated; had frozen Han in carbonite; had cut off Luke's hand and nearly killed him.

Leia hadn't been prepared to deal with the revelation when Luke had first told her, and she wasn't prepared to deal with it now. She was adept at compartmentalising her reaction to stressful situations, and that is what she had been doing. Ignoring it for now; focusing on their victory; preparing for more work to come; directing her energy towards herself and Han.

Leia did not respond to Luke, instead taking the opportunity to loosen the bandage that had started to chafe on the synthflesh covering her blaster wound. She was almost grateful when Calrissian chose that moment to stomp down the ramp, momentarily blocking the light that spilled out from the freighter, his arms laden with a tray of food. He was chuckling and shaking his head in awe at the variety of fresh fruits and vegetables.

"Leia, you are a marvel!" Calrissian crowed as he brought the tray over to the fire. "I've always appreciated those friends who have contacts in high places. But you, my dear. Only you could come up with a spread like this."

Smiling tightly at the lavish praise, Leia started to rise. "Can I help?"

Calrissian placed the platter on a blanket that was spread out on the ground. "No, no, no, no! You're wounded! Besides, you provided all of this. The least you can allow us to do is prepare it for you."

Luke came to her side and placed an encouraging arm around her shoulders, causing her to flinch at his unexpected touch.

"Just relax and take it easy, Leia."

She settled back onto the ground, muttering at them, "I'm not an invalid."

Luke chuckled at her defensiveness. "No, but it would be good for you to have a rest."

"Oh, _you_ can talk, Skywalker," she told him. "If anyone needs rest, it's you."

Luke followed Calrissian's lead and tried a wedge of the crimson-coloured fruit.

"You're right," Luke agreed as he munched on the sweet flesh. "That's why I'm heading back to Dagobah for a while. I need to re-charge just as much as anybody."

_Re-charge._ His reference was to the droids, Threepio and Artoo, who were currently back onboard a Mon Calamari cruiser undergoing repairs. But Leia understood what he was saying. His confrontation with the Emperor and Vader must have been draining, physically and emotionally. There were probably other issues he needed to resolve, both personal and Force-related. Despite this, she didn't feel comfortable that her brother was leaving her. She had hoped that between the two of them, they might have been able to help Han.

"When are you going? How long will you be away for?" she wanted to know.

"I thought I'd head off in the next day or so." He squeezed her shoulder. "Don't worry. I won't be gone for long. There's just a few things I need to take care of."

"But—"

"It'll get me out of your way. Give you and Han the chance to spend some time together."

"If he ever shows up," Calrissian interrupted with a laugh, his mouth full of food. "I've never known Han to be late when a meal is on the table."

Luke caught the way Leia's face stiffened, but instead of chiding Calrissian he steered the conversation in another direction. "I want to know where Chewie's gotten to with those falakik he promised."

Luke's nudge prompted Lando to his feet. "I'll go hurry him on."

Leia stared into the crackling fire. She only distantly heard Calrissian calling out to Chewbacca as he trudged back up the ramp, and having Luke sitting so close next to her only made her yearn for Han to be there.

Calrissian re-appeared, this time clutching drink flasks to his chest. He exchanged a few comments and laughter with Luke before passing out the drinks. Leia accepted the flask, but her smile was forced. Her eyes returned to the fire. Entranced, she watched the flames flicker as a gentle breeze drifted out from under the _Falcon's_ landing gear.

_Where the hell is Han?_

An exuberant Wookiee bellow and the rich aroma of cooked meat had them all looking towards the ramp. Chewbacca was making a grand entrance with a plate piled high with skewered cubes of meat. Calrissian _whooped_ with delight and rubbed his hands together, urging Chewbacca down towards the blanket. The noise and the spectacle distracted Leia enough that she missed Luke turning towards the darkness.

"Hello Han," Luke welcomed.

Leia's head whipped around, her eyes straining to see into the night.

The young Jedi beckoned with a tilt of his head and encouraged, "Come and join us."

Chewbacca added his own welcome, and then Leia finally saw Han as he moved forward into the light. He was still wearing the fatigues he'd been issued with for the mission, which was probably why she had been unable to see him until he was only a few metres away. Luke's Force sense had obviously allowed him to detect Han's approach from some distance, and Chewbacca's refined hunting senses would likewise have helped. But Leia had sensed nothing.

Han had been wearing the same clothes for nearly a week. Torn, dirty, and stained with sweat and blood—blood from Leia and his two fallen soldiers—he appeared even less like the man she loved. And despite having the opportunity to change into his old clothing, it appeared as though the thought had not occurred to him. For herself, Luke and Lando, it was one of the first things they had done.

As he came to a halt at the edge of their impromptu dinner party, Leia was able to clearly see his face. Bloodshot and glassy, his eyes moved quickly across the scene before dropping to the fire. She noticed he held his head downcast, chin tucked towards his chest. Her first instinct was to greet him with a hug. But something told her it would be best to leave him alone.

"I knew you wouldn't miss out on a free meal!" Calrissian joked, reaching for one of the falakik from the platter that Chewbacca had laid on the blanket. "Grab a seat and grab a plate, my friend."

Leia almost wished it was just the four of them celebrating the demise of the Death Star, like it had been from the start: herself, Luke, Chewie and Han. If Lando weren't here, it would mean they had never been to Bespin. Never have run into Vader. Never have suffered through the agony of the carbonite.

"How's your arm?"

Han's softly spoken question caught her off-guard. He was still staring into the fire and for a moment, Leia thought she had imagined he had spoken. When she didn't reply, his gaze drifted from the flames towards her, and the expectant look he gave her required a response.

"It's healing well. No permanent damage or scaring."

"Great." His word was at odds with his tone. His eyes moved up to the _Falcon's_ open ramp. "Better go clean up."

Keeping his head down, Han skirted around them and strode into his ship. She watched him leave, sat there staring up into the _Falcon_, attempting to find an excuse to follow him.

_Leave him be, _a softly spoken voice told her. Leia glanced at Luke. The voice had sounded almost like her brother's, but it hadn't been his. She wondered if he had planted the idea in her mind.

_Leave him be, _the voice insisted. The voice was most definitely not Luke's, but she was still uncertain if the suggestion was his. Then Luke looked at her curiously as he slid a cube of meat off the skewer and into his mouth, and she knew he wasn't the source of the voice.

[Princess.]

Chewbacca was holding the plate of falakik towards her. Leia selected one of the skewers and murmured her thanks, just as Calrissian leaned across and took what had to be his fourth or fifth falakik. The Wookiee snarled playfully at the man's greed.

"Han better hurry up," Lando said around a mouthful of meat, wiping the marinade from his moustache, "or there'll be nothing left."

Leia bit carefully into the tender meat. Calrissian's claim seemed rather hollow; she knew food was the last thing on Han's mind.

"Well then, we'll save him some," Luke suggested.

Chewbacca obviously thought that was a good idea because he started piling the skewered meat onto a separate plate, much to Calrissian's howls of protest. Leia felt compelled to step in before the noise got too much for her.

"It's all right, Chewie," she told him. "I don't think Han's hungry."

"Not hungry?" Lando snorted dismissively. "I've never known him _not_ to be hungry."

The princess turned her attention back to the piquant meat in case she said something she would later regret. The voice in her head was gone, but the idea had stayed. She would give Han time to clean up. _Leave him be_, at least until she knew what she could do to help him. With or without Luke.


	3. Chapter 3

**Mind Tricks**

**by Corellian Blue**

_(first published 2003, revised 2016, 2020)_

_Warnings: mental health issues; suicide attempt_

_**III**_

* * *

By the time Han made it to the safety of his cabin, the pain was unbearable. The gun-rig fell from his hips as he snapped open the buckle, hanging from his leg until he popped the tie-down strap from his thigh, where it clattered to the deck. He dropped the medpack on the desk, fingers fumbling with the catch as he struggled to open it. He grabbed the spray pack that contained a combination disinfectant/anaesthetic and turned to the small mirror mounted near the closet.

The face that confronted him was not his own. Pale and drawn, the red-rimmed eyes and dark stubble of beard were the only colours on his skin. He lifted his chin, wincing when he saw what was causing the excruciating pain for the last few hours. The blister was a perfect circle, the diameter of his blaster's muzzle, the legacy of trying to blow his head off with a blaster still hot from target practice.

There was a moment of agony as he sprayed the wound, before the pain-killing properties of the medication slipped in and his shoulders sagged in relief. He reached back into the medpack and brought out a tube of salve. The burn was now numb, but he gingerly applied the salve, being careful not to burst the blistering skin. He finished by placing a strip of synthflesh over the burn and sat down heavily on his bunk.

He had no idea why he was still alive.

The urge to kill himself had been reflexive, unpremeditated, and at the time had seemed the only solution to the problems afflicting him. An undeniable rush of relief had initially engulfed him in the moment it took to realise he'd found the guts to turn the blaster on himself. But something had gone wrong. The blaster's firing system had made an audible _click_ as it caught on the safety mechanism.

Finger quivering on the trigger, Han had remained in that position, blaster pressed up into his jaw, drowning as the blood rushed in his ears. He couldn't remember flicking on the safety. Perhaps that had also been instinctive, his self-preservation kicking in.

The stubble on his chin had offered short-lived protection from the heat of the blaster's muzzle, before the scorching pain had forced him to drop the weapon.

The failed suicide attempt had left him nauseous and unstable, and he'd spent a bad five minutes vomiting and dry retching into the dirt beside the pyre. Not confident of his ability to ride the speeder bike, he'd left it near the shuttle, and had spent some time wandering through the forest in a semi-daze, trying to work out if he should be frustrated or grateful that he couldn't manage to kill himself.

The ice-cold water from a stream had offered him some relief from the pain of the burn. Lying flat out on the ground, he'd immersed his head in the gentle current, rinsing the bile from his mouth and the pyre smoke from his face. Then he'd rolled onto his back and allowed the guilt to wash over him.

Most of his life had been spent eluding death, and although he'd never seriously considered his own mortality, he had a healthy respect towards dying. His suicide would have seen him achieve what countless adversaries had failed. Including the carbonite and Vader.

His death would have affected more than just himself. The Life Debt Chewbacca had pledged to him would've been shattered and incomplete. The Wookiee would've been inconsolable and racked with guilt over his inability to save his Honour Brother from himself. Luke and Lando would've had similar feelings of guilt and sympathy. But the person who would've been affected most by his death would have been Leia.

For a young woman, Leia had experienced more grief and hardship than anyone deserved. She had witnessed the annihilation of her homeworld and struggled through years of war against the Empire. The last ten months had been the most trying for her. They had both endured living nightmares throughout the time he'd been frozen in carbonite. Killing himself may have solved his immediate problems, but they would have forced more grief and anguish onto the woman he loved.

Suicide was a selfish act the old Solo may have contemplated, the man he had been before he had fallen in love with Leia. He loved Leia so dearly, he should have been doing everything in his power to protect her from the kind of pain and distress he knew his death would have caused. And yet he had come so close to causing the very things he should've been protecting her against.

It was late afternoon by the time Han had found the strength to rise from the place beside the stream. He'd hoped that Leia had returned from the medical frigate by then, trying to convince himself that he _did_ want to see her, that he _didn't_ care who her father was. If he thought it often enough, perhaps he would believe it.

The gathering Han had found outside the _Falcon_ had surprised him, until he'd remembered the celebratory dinner Leia had mentioned that morning. He'd been in no mood for partying, and the laughter from his friends only caused him more guilt. Here they were celebrating life and friendship, and he'd been aiming for the opposite. Gratefully, he'd been able to move into the _Falcon_ without delay or questions he was not sure how he would have answered.

Han leaned forward, dropped his head into his hands. His mind was so full images and emotions from the past day, it felt like it would explode. He was tempted to head back outside and ask Leia for the medication she had promised she would return with. The drofic had already proven that it provided relief, but temporary was all it was. Although only mildly addictive, Han was concerned that he could become reliant on the drug. For him, the fact that he _wanted_ the drug was enough reason not to take it. Besides, what kind of life would it be if he had to use a spice derivative to help him to replicate the emotions and actions that were now so foreign to him? He did not want to live a lie.

He was exhausted, he knew that much, and the exhaustion was only adding to his confusion. Sleep would be the only safe way to slow his brain down, give his body time to recover. But as there was no way he'd been able to sleep in his current state, he turned his attention back to the medpack. A sedative was his only hope.

Han had no personal experience with the hypo-tranquilliser, no idea how effective if would be or how quickly it would work. Fully clothed and boots still on, he settled himself out on his bunk, pressed the hypo-infuser to his neck and administered the sedative. He was out before he could return the infuser to the desktop.


	4. Chapter 4

**Mind Tricks**

**by Corellian Blue**

_(first published 2003, revised 2016, 2020)_

_Warnings: language; mental health issues; suicide attempt_

_**IV**_

Luke threw another log on the fire, triggering flames and sparks to curl up towards the sky. The falakik were cold, the remaining skewers of meat that had been saved for Han now sat on the plate, congealing in their juices.

Leia checked her wrist chrono again. Han had entered the _Falcon_ nearly an hour ago, and it was obvious he wasn't returning. His absence from the group was noticeable. Luke, Lando and Chewbacca were trying their best to keep up the banter that had started the evening, but the ambience between them lacked informality and spontaneity, and the humour was forced and strained. Over the last year, the four of them had never spent time together in such a relaxed setting. It was apparent to Leia that the entity that drew them together was the same one missing from the celebrations: Han.

Leia wasn't enjoying herself; she knew the others knew she wasn't enjoying herself. The itch from her healing skin was doing nothing for her mood, and the only reason why she hadn't already checked on Han was because she didn't want it to _look_ as though she was mothering him. She decided things had gone beyond appearances. Glancing at Luke, and without a further word or hesitation, she rose and climbed the freighter's ramp.

As she'd hadn't seen Han in the cockpit from outside, Leia knew he wasn't there. She suspected he would be in his cabin, but giving him the benefit of the doubt, she detoured through the main hold before heading there. The hatch to his cabin was closed. Leia knocked gently before entering.

Han was on the bunk, fully clothed, the mud from his boots soiling the covers. Stepping over the gun-rig that had been carelessly left on the deck, Leia moved towards his side. He seemed unnaturally still, starkly lit by the harsh cabin lighting, the colour of his face pale and wan. Leia thought he was simply resting and hadn't heard her enter. Then she saw the hypo-infuser clutched in the hand that lay across his body. There was a moment of blind panic before she spotted the rise and fall of his chest: he was breathing—_Of course, he is breathing!_ Adrenaline and relief washed over her as she scolded herself for soaring into a ridiculous over-reaction.

Collecting the empty infuser from his hand, Leia read from the hypo's label that it had contained a potent sedative. Han would be unconscious until at least the morning. There was a possibility of his airway becoming obstructed if she left him on his back in a soporific state and dressed in his fatigues, he also looked uncomfortable.

She removed Han's boots and socks, unclipped his belt, and unfastened the front of his shirt and his trousers. She placed his arm furthest away from herself out from his body, then draped his other across his chest. She bent the leg closest to her at the knee, placed his foot directly on the bunk. Supporting his head and neck, she gently rolled him away from herself into a first aid recovery position. She finished by tucking his hand under his chin to stop his head from tilting and potentially blocking his airway.

Her heart was still racing as she placed the used infuser next to the medpack. It wasn't like Han to resort to medication to put himself to sleep. She was more used to seeing him down a few beers or whiskey to relax. That was before the carbonite.

It wasn't surprising that he had resorted to a sedative. The only time he'd slept free from nightmares was when he was on the spice derivative. He had clearly felt he needed the tranquilliser.

Remembering the drofic she'd brought back for him, Leia retrieved the individually sealed capsules from a pocket and placed them on the desk next to the open medpack. She noticed discarded wrappings and other used items from the pack, and moved back to Han, searching him for signs of injury. The hand resting under his chin drew her eye to the patch of synthflesh, and she wondered how she'd managed to miss seeing it earlier.

Leia brushed the hair from Han's forehead, grateful that the wound didn't appear large or serious, but intensely curious about the cause.

Her mind was suddenly flooded with an horrific image: Han pushing the muzzle of his blaster up under his chin, closing his eyes and pulling the trigger.

She instinctively recoiled from him, withdrawing her hand from his head as if she had been burnt, stared at him anxiously.

Her love and concern for him quickly forced away the vision, and just as quickly she rested her hand on his shoulder, annoyed that her over-active imagination and smothering concern for him were eliciting her melodramatic, uncharacteristic responses. She had no extra-sensory cognitive ability, no special perception skills that would allow her to divine what had happened caused his injury.

_The Force runs strong in my family._

Luke had told her that on the night he'd revealed he was her brother. But that didn't mean she had the same abilities as Luke.

_You're wrong, Leia. You have that power. In time, you'll learn to use it as I have._

_Use it the way Anakin Skywalker used it? _Leia thought bitterly. _The way _Vader_ used it?_

Han wouldn't attempt to take his own life. He was too strong and resilient to do that. He loved her too much. And if her vision was correct, how could he now be lying stretched out on his bunk? Why was he still alive?

Leia covered him with a spare blanket from the closet, kissed his cheek before reluctantly pulling away from him.

"Sleep well," she whispered.

Before dimming the light to night-mode, Leia picked up the gun-rig and laid it out on the desk. She looked at him one more time and closed the hatch to the cabin.

Leia initially intended returning outside to spend the rest of the evening with her friends, however by the time she made it around to the main hold, she felt as exhausted as she suspected Han was. It was tempting to go back to his cabin, snuggle up next to him like she first had on the long, slow flight to Bespin. But she didn't want to disturb him. Rubbing at the bandage around her arm, she headed to the other place on the _Falcon_ that she loved, apart from Han's cabin, the pilot's seat in the cockpit. Han's seat.

Leia settled into the seat, tucking her legs up underneath herself and recalling the way Han usually half-fell into this chair with casual elegance. She felt connected to her lover here, imagined that she could feel the gentle sleep rhythm that enfolded him. She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing, allowing her fantasy to take flight. In her mind, she was able to discern the cadence of his breathing, the beat of his heart, the patterns of his brainwaves. She imagined there was something distinctly 'Han' in what she could sense; something that identified the synchronised electrical impulses as being generated by the neurons in _his_ _mind_. At yet, even in her imagination, she knew there was something not right about Han. Her thoughts circled back to the cause of his problems: _carbonite_.

The soft fall of bootsteps drew Leia back to the reality of the cockpit. She opened her eyes and looked over her shoulder as Luke entered through the hatchway. He gave her a small smile in response to her frown and took a seat in Chewbacca's seat.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Luke asked quietly.

Leia's brow crinkled into a scowl. She _had_ wanted to talk to her brother about how they might be able to help Han, but as he was leaving for Dagobah, she felt less inclined to discuss her concerns, especially as it appeared Luke didn't think likewise. There were other things she also wanted to talk to him about. Personal things that a brother and sister should share. But that would no doubt lead to discussing other matters she couldn't—wouldn't—deal with. Not now. Perhaps not ever.

"I'm worried about Han," Leia told him.

Luke said nothing, yet his eyes encouraged Leia to continue.

"He hasn't been the same since…" It was ridiculous, but she couldn't even say the name of the place where the nightmare had begun. _Bespin…_ "He hasn't fully recovered from the effects of the carbonite. Or Vader's torture."

Luke raised an eyebrow at her use of the name Vader but said nothing.

Incredulous at his lack of response, Leia asked, "You haven't noticed?"

Luke shrugged. "Perhaps I'm cutting Han some slack. Giving him time to find his feet again."

"And you're saying I'm not?"

Much to her annoyance, Luke smiled pleasantly. "You're closer to Han than anyone, Leia. If you're worried about him, then your concerns are justified. You should trust your feelings and intuition."

Leia's eyes narrowed, suspicious that Luke had agreed with her too quickly. But his face was open, honest, expectant, and she continued without further questioning his motives.

"I need to help Han," she explained. "And I want you to help me."

"Isn't the medication working?"

Although Leia had discretely dispensed the drofic to Han, it did not surprise her that Luke knew about the medication. Much to her irritation, the young Jedi—her _brother_—seemed to know a lot about _everything_ lately.

"The drofic has helped, but it only relieves the symptoms. It doesn't solve the problem. And I don't want Han to be on drugs for the rest of his life."

"You might have to accept that as a possibility," Luke told her.

Leia folded her arms across her chest. "I don't have to accept anything. Not if there's some way of helping him."

Luke only pursed his lips and nodded. Leia wondered if he was oblivious to her animosity or merely ignoring it to further annoy her.

"What do you think is wrong with Han?" he finally asked.

Frustrated, she dropped her arms and leaned towards her brother. "I'm not a psych counsellor, Luke. I don't know exactly what's wrong with Han. The doctor suggested he could suffer from post-traumatic stress, but how do I know if that's what this is." _Especially if Han won't talk to me about it._ "What if it's something else? But we need to know what's wrong before we can fix it. That's why I need your help."

A level of modesty washed over Luke. "I don't know if I can be of much help, Leia. My master taught me some pain-blocking and basic healing techniques. These allow me to cope with pain and stress and accelerate the healing processes."

Leia smiled. This was what she wanted to hear. Something positive.

"But I've only used them on myself," Luke continued. "I've never tried applying the Force on another being to heal them. I don't even know if I can."

"Why not?" Leia reasoned, struggling to remain calm. "Surely the principles are the same."

"The Force doesn't work on principles, Leia. It's something you feel. It guides you, and—"

"But you could still try it on Han," she interrupted.

Luke's face twitched uncomfortably. "I could. But I don't think it would work on him." He hurried to explain himself before she could interrupt again. "Han's too strong-willed, strong-minded. I wouldn't want to fight him or enforce my will on him. Besides, for any healing to be successful, he'd have to _want_ to let me in."

Leia closed her mouth before she put her foot in it and said something she might regret. Luke was right. Han would not be receptive to anyone prodding around in his sub-conscious. She wasn't even sure the Corellian believed in the Force, despite having been exposed to Luke's 'mumbo jumbo' for the last few years.

"You might be able to do it, though."

Leia met her brother's sparkling eyes. "I might be able to do what?"

Luke's grin widened. "Han would let you in. He trusts you. He wouldn't fight you."

Leia pulled an indifferent face. "Maybe."

"What do you mean, 'maybe'?" he admonished. "There's no 'maybe' about it."

"So what if he would let me in," she shot back defensively. "I don't know what to do. I don't know how to control the Force—"

"You don't control the Force, Leia," Luke interrupted.

Deliberately ignoring the correction, Leia continued, "Even if I did how to con—use the Force, I don't know how to help Han. That's your department."

"It could be your department too," he encouraged.

Leia shook her head. "No, it couldn't."

He offered, "I could show you what to do."

She sat back in the seat, mouth open, hands open as she gestured at his suggestion. "How could you show me what to do when you said you didn't _know_ what to do?"

Luke paused and Leia became uncomfortably aware that she was saying _anything_ to deny that she might have Force skills.

"What did you do to help you get over the loss of Alderaan?" her brother eventually asked.

Leia bristled and the hair on the back of her neck rose. "I haven't."

Luke stared at her, disbelieving but at the same time contrite. "You know what I mean. As I recall, about six months after the Battle of Yavin you had a breakdown."

Leia averted her eyes.

Luke continued, "You came through that, Leia. What did you do?"

Leia didn't like talking about the destruction of her homeworld, let alone dissecting how she managed to cope with it. She thought she had been discrete about her psychological condition after Alderaan, throwing herself into the Rebel Alliance, working long, hard hours, going to bed fatigued, too tired to even think straight. Anything to put off any emotional reaction she had. Until one morning, she had been unable to get out of her bunk. Physically incapable of rising, she had called in sick.

The first psych counsellor Leia had seen had been useless. He had wanted her to talk incessantly about how she felt, encouraging her to openly weep and rage.

The second counsellor had been more effective but even then, Leia had picked and chosen the therapy elements she thought would be most useful to her. She had used a combination of meditation, relaxation and focusing exercises, concentrating on her incoming thoughts and feelings and accepting but not reacting to them.

Considering it now from a distance, Leia recognised that she had instinctively sought out the Force, channelling it and allowing it to heal herself. But that didn't make her feel confident that she could do something similar for Han. She didn't even know where to begin.

"Let me show you a few techniques to help heal your arm," Luke suggested. "That can't hurt, can it?"

Leia pressed her lips together tightly, remained silent.

Luke took her silence as acceptance and pressed on. "I can show you how to enter Han's mind, providing he lets you in. Then if or when you feel comfortable, you could always try applying the same healing techniques on Han." He shrugged. "Who knows. They might work."

_Who knows?! _she silently yelled at him. _ You should know! You're the fucking Jedi!_

Luke flinched and she knew he had heard her. But his reaction was enough to shame her for her aggressive response, calm her emotions and force her to apply a semblance of logic to the situation.

She chewed on the inside of her mouth. Maybe Luke's suggestion wasn't _that_ ridiculous. If she did have some latent Force ability, she may at least be able to speed up the healing of her blaster wound and stave off one aggravation. As it was, the itch from the synthflesh was driving her crazy.

Leia closed her eyes at the inappropriate description she had chosen. She owed it to Han to at least try what Luke was offering. It seemed to be the only hope she had.

And if it didn't work? The worst that could happen is she would still have a sore arm for a few days to come.

Leia returned her gaze to her brother. Luke was watching her intently, the corner of his mouth turning up into a hopeful half-smile.

"All right," she agreed. "Where do we start?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Mind Tricks**

**by Corellian Blue**

_(first published 2003, revised 2016, 2020)_

_Warnings: mental health issues; suicide attempt_

_**V**_

It seemed to take Han forever to wake up. His head felt heavy, stuffy, and he knew it was the after-effects of the sedative. It was tempting to lie there and let the galaxy carry on without him, and so he did just that for a while.

The webbing belt that had encircled his hips eventually put paid to that plan; the clasp was now digging into his hip. Wondering how his belt had managed to come undone, he opened his eyes and pushed himself from his side onto his back.

The dim lighting revealed that he was in his cabin, though where else he might be, he had no idea. His feet were bare, poking up at him from the end of a blanket, a blanket he couldn't remember placing over himself. That must've been Leia. He closed his eyes and cringed. He hadn't returned outside to see her when she had been expecting him. Hadn't even said good night to her. He looked at the empty space next to him on the bunk. She hadn't spent the night with him either.

Pulling the blanket from himself, he realised his clothing had been loosened, hence the reason for the belt becoming entangled underneath him. And then he understood perhaps why Leia hadn't slept with him: he stunk. It was more than just body odour. It was a battle's worth of sweat, mud and blood. The smoke from Vader's pyre had also seeped into his clothes and skin.

He was in the refresher cubicle before he had time to think, pushing the fatigues to the deck as he stood in the stream of hot water, his uniform piling up around his feet. For long minutes he stood there, face and mouth open to the shower, and allowed the water to wash over him. He soaped himself up with the liquid cleanser, rubbed it through his hair and across his body.

Once he'd rinsed himself, he swiped off the flow of water. He dragged the clothing out of the stall and shoved them into the auto valet, then stepped back in and set the 'fresher for sonics. The sounds waves gently buffeted him, opening his pores and extracting the dirt and grime that he still felt covered him. With the sonics completed, he had a final water rinse. Only then did he feel clean.

His right hand was trembling again, but as it had been happening for days now, he was beyond caring. If one hand refused to cooperate, then he would use the other one. Naked, he stood in front of the mirror and methodically combed his hair with his left hand, then used the shaver to cut through the week's growth of beard. He lifted his chin and stopped when he saw the synthflesh patch. The synthetic skin had taken nicely, the edges melding with his own skin. Soon, it would be impossible to tell he'd burnt himself with the muzzle of his blaster. Only he would know the truth.

The hair follicles had not yet grown through the synthflesh and as he didn't want to disturb the healing process, he chose not to shave over the patch. He was mildly surprised at how easy it was shaving with his left hand, but then he'd always been moderately ambidextrous.

Back in his cabin, he dressed in his old spacer clothing: boots, trousers, a light-coloured shirt, and the jacket Leia had given him to replace the one lost on Bespin. Deciding these clothes felt better than the uniform of an Alliance general, he then stripped the bedclothes from the bunk and replaced them with clean sheets and covers.

The gun-belt encircling the medpack on the desk eventually caught his attention. That hadn't been where he'd dropped his holster and blaster when he'd come into the cabin last night. His fingers brushed over the DL-44's scope and he released the restraining strap, slid the blaster from the holster, drew it towards himself. He studied the muzzle, looking for any traces of his skin that might have stuck to it. Even now, both of his hands shook with the memory of how he'd pushed the weapon under his jaw and pulled the trigger. So close. He'd come so close to ending it all. And it was only through fate, dumb luck, or blind instinct that he was standing here, hadn't left his brains fried across the forest.

He returned the blaster to its holster and pushed it aside. He couldn't wear the gun-rig, not now. The memories were raw; the injury barely healed. The temptation to try it again, perhaps still there.

He went to seal the medpack and noticed the drofic capsules on the desk.

_A 'present' from Leia,_ he thought wryly.

The observation grated on him. That wasn't fair. After all, he was the one who had asked her to get the medication for him. But he couldn't take it. He longed to feel the way he had back on the Mon Cal cruiser when the doctor had first prescribed the drofic for him. He'd been unstoppable, one hundred metres tall and laser-proof, like he'd been before the carbonite. The trembling in his hand had even ceased. The craving to feel that way again—the craving for the drug—was almost undeniable. Almost, but not quite.

Han sealed the capsules inside the medpack and left it on the desk. Stroking his hand down the thigh his blaster normally sat on, he turned and left his cabin. He had a speeder bike to return.


	6. Chapter 6

**Mind Tricks**

**by Corellian Blue**

_(first published 2003, revised 2016, 2020)_

_Warnings: mental health issues_

_**VI**_

* * *

"_Where's Chewie?"_

Leia looked up at the sound of Han's voice, but was surprised to see that she was still alone. That was odd. She'd distinctly heard his voice and had thought that he'd come down the _Falcon's_ ramp without her noticing. But she was definitely on her own, sitting out in the sunshine, enjoying what was left of the day.

She turned back to the datapad sitting in her lap. She was obviously missing Han, hence the reason for conjuring his voice in her head. She'd been on her own for most of the day. Luke had returned to the Fleet that morning in the shuttle he'd used to escape from the Death Star. Once he'd given his report to the High Command and ensured his X-Wing was operational, he was off to Dagobah.

Chewbacca and Lando had returned to the Fleet with Luke, supposedly to hunt down a new sensor dish and other parts to repair the _Falcon_. But they had also left the moon to give her some time to be with Han, time together and away from the Alliance.

Leia had cleared her own and Han's leave with General Rieekan. She'd explained to the general that as she was injured and Han exhausted, not quite having recovered from the hibernation sickness, they intended spending the next few days on the forest moon. Rieekan had appeared mildly amused by Leia's instruction that was more demand than request, but he had agreed to their leave after making a wry comment about whether spending time alone with Han Solo was the best way for her to recuperate. When she considered that she had spent most of their first day on her own, working while Han slept, she was starting to wonder the same thing herself, though not in the way Rieekan had meant.

At least being on her own had given her time to practice the healing techniques Luke had taught her the previous night. Something must have been working because she had been able to remove the bandage this morning.

Leia rubbed at the place where the wound had been. By simply concentrating on the area and imaging the healing process, her own skin had rapidly grown over the synthflesh. The new skin was still pink and shiny, but thankfully it hadn't itched since Luke had started her Force lessons.

When she wasn't experimenting with the Force, Leia had been researching the functions and disorders of the human brain, predominantly those related to traumatic stress. She had downloaded information from the medical database located on _Home One_. Studiously digesting and selecting those items she considered relevant, Leia had compiled a report for herself. If she was going to help Han, she needed to have some idea of what she was dealing with.

One thing that had hit home with Leia was the frequent reference to how post-traumatic stress disorder could have an impact on relationships, particularly when the effort to block out painful memories could lead to the sufferer appearing irritable or uninterested.

Leia had tried ignoring Han's behaviour, and then making excuses for it when she couldn't ignore it, but she had never been able to accept it. She didn't think she would be able to successfully cope if he remained like this for the rest of his life. Whatever happened, she hoped she would never reach the point where she feared him. Afraid _for_ him perhaps, but never _of_ him.

The _click_ of boots on the boarding ramp caused Leia to look up again and this time she saw Han duck out from under the hull. He looked rested, his eyes less haunted, so his decision to use the sedative had been worth it. She was pleased to see he had showered and shaved, reassured that he now wore the spacer garb he seemed most comfortable in. But then she realised he was unarmed, the ubiquitous blaster missing from his hip, and she wondered if it had something to do with the way he had discarded the gun-rig on the deck of his cabin.

Han stopped at the end of the ramp, his eyes scanning the clearing as he wiped his hands on his trousers in a vaguely nervous gesture.

"Hi," she called out to him brightly, switching off the datapad and rising to her feet.

Han's eyes briefly met hers before continuing to search the clearing. "Where's Chewie?"

Leia flinched, silently forgiving his lack of greeting and that he appeared more concerned with his friend's absence than her presence.

"He's gone back to the Fleet with Lando."

"What?" Han shook his head irritably. "Doesn't he know we've got repairs to make? Especially after what Calrissian did to her."

Leia moved towards him, calmly explaining, "That's why they've gone. Lando's feeling guilty enough about the scorch marks on the hull, let alone the fact he lost the dish."

Han gruffly agreed, "So he should."

"They've gone to hunt down a new dish for you." Disregarding his apparent desire to be annoyed, Leia reached for his hand, and was grateful that he allowed her to hold it. "And how about you?"

He met her concerned gaze. "Me?"

"How are you holding up for repairs?"

He pulled an indifferent face. "Fine."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Did you sleep well?" When he didn't respond, she added, "I was a bit worried when you didn't come back for dinner."

Han dropped his gaze. "I wasn't hungry."

She suspected he was feeling guilty about not returning to say good night to her, but she didn't push him for an apology.

"Are you hungry now? I can get you something to eat, if you'd like."

"Maybe later. I've gotta return a bike to the base."

She tilted her head and looked at him curiously. She hadn't heard him pull up on a speeder bike last night and wondered where he might have left it. Had he hallucinated the bike?

"And then I suppose I better think about getting you back to the Fleet, Your Highnessness. High Command probably think I've run off with you."

His heart wasn't in the banter, but at least he was trying. She poked her tongue at him to lighten the mood. He pulled her into a light hug, and she returned the embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his chest. It was the first time she had hugged him since she had told him about Vader being her father. It felt wonderful to be back in his arms.

"We don't have to go anywhere," she told him. "Carlist has given us the next few days off. I thought we could spend some time down here. Alone."

"Rieekan's given us leave?" he asked sceptically. "How did you talk him into that?"

Leia chuckled and squeezed her arms around him. "I cannot reveal my secrets."

"And you sent Chewie and Lando away?"

"And Luke too," she added. "He's off to Dagobah."

"Sounds like you've got something devious in mind planned for me."

Leia pulled back so that she could see his face, leaving her arms around his waist to maintain the contact.

"Nothing devious," she promised. "Just catch up time. You. Me. Getting to know each other again." …_and what's going on in that mind of yours._ "We haven't had a break since Bespin."

Han gently caressed her cheek, a gesture he hadn't made for a long time. "I know."

"Love you too, flyboy," she whispered, struggling to control the sentiment in her voice, wishing he _was_ the way he used to be, this had all been a bad dream.

"You're going mushy on me, Princess," he lightly warned her.

She smiled shakily at their private joke. It was moments like this that made her believe there was nothing wrong with him.

It took all her strength, but she stopped her lips from trembling and admitted, "Perhaps a bit."

The last thing he needed was to be consoling her. He had more than enough problems without worrying about a blubbering princess.

Reluctantly, she stepped away from his embrace. Her eye caught on the synthflesh patch under his chin and she was tempted to ask him how he had hurt himself. Her instincts told her now was not the right time. When he was ready, he would tell her. She noticed that his hand, the one she hadn't been holding, was quivering slightly, so he probably hadn't taken any of the medication she had brought back.

"I left the drofic in your cabin for you," she said. The sooner she got him back on the medication, the sooner she could start dealing with the cause of his disorder.

He consciously rubbed the back of his hand with the other. "I saw it. Thanks."

There was something about his tone that made her believe she knew what he was thinking.

"You're not going to take it, are you?"

He dropped his gaze, shook his head.

Leia repressed a sigh, wanting to understand. "I thought it was working. I thought it was helping you."

He certainly wasn't going out of his way to make things easy for himself.

A grimace twisted his face. "I can't take it anymore."

"Why not?"

He was silent for a moment before mumbling, "I want it too much."

Leia's stomach dropped as she empathised with him. She recalled the argument she had used on Luke the previous night: the drofic relieved his symptoms, but it didn't solve the problem. She had since changed her mind once her research had indicated that a psychotherapeutic drug, combined with other therapies, would help him. Luke had also suggested the spice might make Han more receptive to the Force. As well as easing his anxiety, it would probably bring down the barriers his mind normally held in place.

Leia was also aware that if _she_ took the drofic, it might enhance her burgeoning Force skills. In addition to stimulating the brain's pleasure centre, spice was renowned for invigorating any extra-sensory ability a user might have. The drofic hadn't caused this result in Han, but Leia suspected this was more likely because he was Force blind, not because it was ineffective.

Leia laid a hand on his forearm. "It's not supposed to be _the_ solution, Han. It's to make you feel more like your old self. To help you cope. Then you can separately tackle the main cause of the problem."

He pulled away from her touch. "You're not listening to me, Leia. I said, I want it too much."

"You told me yourself it's not overly addictive," Leia reasoned. "I think you're over-reacting to the fact that it's doing you good."

"I'm _not_ taking it."

There was no point in arguing with him. She knew that once he'd made his mind up, that was usually it. She understood why he was afraid of becoming addicted to the spice-derivative, no matter how much of a long shot that was. Even before the carbonite, he'd had an almost paranoid distrust of medication. She suspected his attitude towards drugs—of any kind—had arisen from his streetwise experience, seeing too many lives destroyed by the effects of countless stimulants, depressants and spices.

His distrust of drugs was fervent; it was possible he may once have been an addict himself. It had been a genuine surprise to her when he had agreed to take the drofic to help with his symptoms. But unlike other forms of spice, drofic was reasonably innocuous and infrequently habit-forming. The medication Han had been given was probably even less addictive, as it was only a derivative and not the spice in full-strength.

Up until yesterday, Han had seemed eager to get back on the medication, especially after he had experienced life both on and off the drug. Something had happened for him to change his mind. If she could work out what that _something_ was, she might be able to convince him otherwise. But she would have to take things slowly and surreptitiously.

"So," she began, "are we heading off to return the bike?"

Han frowned, then his eyes widened. "It's all right. I'll go on my own."

She cocked her head at him, trying to work out why he was unenthusiastic about her suggestion. "You don't want me to come?"

There was a pained expression on his face as he tried to explain. "It's not that."

"But you don't want me to come?"

"It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

Breathing heavily through his nose, his eyes looked everywhere but at her. She wasn't about to let him off easily, no matter how ill he was.

"Han?"

He ran a hand through his hair and finally met her gaze. "The bike." He stopped, grimaced at her. "I left it...out where Luke landed the shuttle."

Leia immediately understood his hesitation. He had gone out to see the pyre. To see the remains of Vader. And he hadn't wanted her to know. He was either embarrassed, ashamed, or something had happened out there.

She gave him a small smile. "It's all right. I was thinking about going out there myself."

He raised an eyebrow. "You were?"

She hadn't.

Going anywhere near the remains of that monster had been the last thing on her mind. But if it meant being with Han, being there for him and helping him, then she would go.

Leia took his hand again, squeezed his fingers and smiled at him. "If we leave now, we should be back before it gets dark."

His look was cagey, but he squeezed her fingers in return. "Lemme close the _Falcon_."

She let go of his hand and watched as he climbed the ramp to the seal the hatch. Her mind, however, was trying not to think what lay across the forest.

_I can do this,_ she re-assured herself. _What am I going to see, anyway? Perhaps some human remains. I've seen worse than that. Far worse._

And invariably the _far worse_ she had seen had been created by the one person she was going to see.

_Vader. My father._


	7. Chapter 7

**Mind Tricks**

**by Corellian Blue**

_(first published 2003, revised 2016, 2020)_

_Warnings: mental health issues_

_**VII**_

* * *

The trek to the clearing was relatively easy; an effortless two-kilometre walk through the trees that could have been considered romantic if not for the reality of where they were heading.

They walked hand-in-hand in the late afternoon sunshine, as if on a lovers' stroll. The silence between them was relaxed and comfortable, a simple look or the gentle squeeze of a hand speaking more than words. Han seemed less depressed and distant than he had been, and more prepared to respond to when she asked him a question. Leia took note of his apparent mood-swing, wondering if the mix of light exercise and the dappled sun on their shoulders was helping him.

Their easy companionship reminded Leia of the way it had been between them on the flight to Bespin—after they had started sleeping together. Once their repressed sexual tension and energy had been thoroughly exposed and catered for, their relationship had deepened and blossomed in a way neither of them had anticipated. Spite and irritation were replaced with consideration, gentleness and love. Sitting in that YT-1300-shaped bubble, relishing the endless hours to intimately explore one another, the cares of the galaxy had no longer applied to them.

Leia had always been adept at compartmentalising her thoughts and emotions; prioritising the significant issues that required immediate attention; winnowing out the detritus and relegating it to one side. That is why she had ended up in Han's bunk. Sorting out what had been going on between them—giving in to hopes and desires—took precedence for them both.

It was exactly what Leia was doing now. Han was her priority, not any reaction or reflection she might have towards her parentage. Despite what Luke had told her, Bail and Breha Organa _were_ her parents; they had raised her and loved her, had instilled in her the principles she in which believed and followed. Just because some failed Jedi—

Leia deliberately drew her focus away from what lay ahead, what she would see at the funeral pyre. She concentrated on Han and practised the passive sensing techniques Luke had taught her.

She was surprised how easy it was to detect the essence of who Han was, to perceive the patterns he generated and displaced in the Force; almost like suddenly being able to see and read a text that formerly had been invisible. This was what she had been doing, unknowingly, last night in the _Falcon_ when she had been thinking about Han: sensing his presence in the Force.

Han's underlying emotions also became apparent to her. To outward appearances, he was calm, relaxed. Internally, he was a coiled spring of tension and anxiety. Leia suspected he was trying not to think about something, just as she was.

The closer they got to the clearing, the more restrained Han became. His pace slowed, and Leia found herself almost tugging on his hand, encouraging him to follow her down the path she instinctively knew to take. At least Han seemed content for her to take the lead and did not question how she knew the way to a place she had never been.

The ground rose up into a gentle hill and the trees began to thin out. At the top of the incline, a speeder bike rested next to a fallen log. Leia supposed it was the one Han had used, and Luke had removed it from the clearing prior to lifting off in the shuttle. She couldn't help feeling relieved that Han hadn't hallucinated the bike.

Leia released Han's hand without giving it another thought and moved ahead of him up the slope. Studying Han through the Force over the last hour had sharpened her senses. She was extraordinarily aware of her increased heart rate, the rush of breath in her ears and an inexorable pull, an enticing curiosity that urged her on. Strangely enough, she was no longer fearful of what she would find.

The clearing came into view as she neared the crest of the slope, rising into her line of sight. The open ground was vacant and, she realised, barely big enough to land a _Lambda_ class shuttle on. A blackened smudge of dirt was the only indication of what had happened here.

Leia's immediate reaction was disappointment. She didn't quite know what she had been expecting. Perhaps the remains of the pyre, burnt logs, dead coals—_something_ to indicate this was the end, it was over. But this…this was literally nothing.

_Luke must have cleared it up,_ Leia reasoned to herself. To stop the souvenir hunters and scavengers from desecrating the memory of Anakin Skywalker.

"Luke must've—"

The sharp glance she aimed at Han halted his comment. She hadn't realised he had caught up to her and now stood beside her at the edge of the clearing. She softened her glare with a regretful smile, but his gaze had drifted to the scorched patch of ground and he missed her apology. Leia followed his eyes. There was nothing left to see. She was relieved she didn't have to deal with the emotions that seeing Vader's pyre may have generated. But at the same time, she couldn't help feeling a sense of regret that she had been denied the opportunity to experience those emotions. She couldn't even say good-bye—_good riddance_—to a man she had not known.

Leia stepped out from under the trees and onto the bare earth, moving towards the place where Luke had cremated their birth father in the fashion of the Jedi. Tentatively at first, then more confidently as she neared the blackened earth, Leia opened herself to the Force.

For a moment, she sensed nothing. Closing her eyes, she widened her scope and stretched out her feelings. An incredible surge of energy suddenly assailed her mind and body, overwhelming her in a white-green squall. Almost sensory overload, it was like nothing she could have imagined.

Concentrating on Luke's teachings, Leia rode the wave, accepting and revelling in the energy the life-force gave her. It took her a few minutes to separate the different strands into distinct groupings. She could sense the trees and plants in the surrounding forest, the animals and insects hiding in the lush vegetation, and the comforting presence of Han behind her where he'd remained to check out the speeder bike. But immediately in front of her, where Vader's pyre had been, there was nothing. There was a _gap_ in the Force, a vacuum, an absence of the energy that sent shivers through her body. It was as if a black hole had opened in the fabric of space and sucked it away.

Leia opened her eyes and looked back at Han. He was staring intently at the speeder, fiddling with a display on the instrument panel, deliberately trying to ignore the fact she was looking at him. He grimaced as he rubbed a spot on his temple, and she wondered if he was getting a headache.

Leia returned her attention to the puzzling gap before her. She was a novice to the Force, yet instinctively she knew it wasn't anything she was or wasn't doing. She again wished that Luke had remained with them, that he hadn't been so eager to rush off to Dagobah. He may have been able to explain this phenomenon to her.

The hair at the nape of her neck rose and laser bursts suddenly rained down on the ground she'd been looking at. Gasping, Leia twisted around towards Han. He was unarmed and concentrating on the speeder bike, oblivious to any blaster fire. He'd neither caused it nor seen it, otherwise he would've rushed protectively to her side at the first indication of danger.

Leia was still staring across the clearing at him, when an image of Han swamped her mind. He was kneeling on the ground at her feet, shaking violently as he vomited into the dirt. She immediately looked down, but he wasn't there. She found him back by the speeder where he'd always been. Her eyes darted between the spot on the ground where she had seen Han retching and the outskirts of the clearing where he was physically.

It was a vision, she quickly realised. An insight into something that had happened, or a premonition of things to come. Nothing to be frightened of now. If it had already happened, there was nothing she could do to stop it, but if it was in the future then she may be able to help him.

Leia glanced over her shoulder at the discoloured patch of dirt, the place where a hole in the Force existed, but nothing was clearer to her. Then she caught movement out the corner of her eye and turned back again. A young man around her age stood between her and the edge of the clearing. His light brown hair had a rebellious wave to it. The cut of his tunic and trousers reminded her of the dark clothes Luke had recently chosen to wear. There was a familiarity to the shape of his face, but also a strangeness that found her wondering who he was. His eyes were dark and had a mischievous glint that was like Han's, but unlike Han there was an underlying menace.

Then the young man spoke with an accent that reminded her of Luke's, and one Leia felt certain she had heard before: _"I'd be much too frightened to tease a senator."_

The corner of the young man's mouth tugged up to one side and he spoke her name without moving his lips. "Leia?"

Leia blinked and Han's features materialised over the face of the stranger as he asked, "Leia? Are you all right?"

She realised Han _hadn't_ suddenly appeared. He'd always been there. It was the young man who had vanished.

Leia swallowed the tightness from her throat and nodded absently. She scanned the clearing for any sign of the stranger, wondering who he was. Another vision? Someone who would come into her life in the future? Or someone from the past she would never know?

Han didn't appear convinced as he moved towards her. Leia could sense the protective concern he felt towards her, his own unease forgotten.

"Princess?"

She met his questioning gaze and gave him a reassuring smile.

"I'm fine," she told him. "Really."

Han brushed the back of his finger down her cheek, his mouth twitching up sceptically. "Come on." He took her hand. "Let's get outta here."

Leia gave the clearing one more furtive glance before following him back to the speeder bike.


	8. Chapter 8

**Mind Tricks**

**by Corellian Blue**

_(first published 2003, revised 2016, 2020)_

_Warnings: mental health issues, sexual content_

_**VIII**_

* * *

Leia had watched Han suffer for three hours. The headache had struck him at the clearing, when he had started rubbing his temple, and the ache and his distress had progressively increased.

By the time they had returned the speeder bike to the old Imperial compound and walked back to the _Falcon_, Han was continually massaging his forehead. He had point-blank refused to take medication to help himself, almost as if he was equating _any_ drug with the spice derivative.

Han lit a small fire while Leia prepared them a meal of leftovers from the previous night, though the night was balmy and the flames more for atmosphere and light than warmth.

Lighting the campfire had been the extent of what Han could manage. He hardly touched the food on his plate, claiming he felt nauseous. As he hadn't eaten for over a day, Leia was mildly troubled by his lack of appetite. The warm, humid night added to his discomfit; he removed his jacket and sat away from the heat of the fire, resting his elbows on bent knees and holding his head in his hands, fingers pushing into and massaging his scalp.

Leia speculated whether the vision she'd had of Han vomiting on the ground was connected to his headache. A migraine could make him ill enough that he might throw up, but she'd never known him to experience a migraine. The worst headaches she'd seen were the result of him drinking too much, but as his hangovers were self-induced, she'd never had any sympathy for him.

Now was different. Leia couldn't bear watching him in pain. On the pretence of taking their plates back inside to the ship's galley, Leia made a detour to Han's cabin before returning to his side.

Han was lying flat out on the blanket, long legs twisted over at an uncomfortable angle, an arm slung across his face. She knelt next to him, but he didn't move until she touched his elbow. He dropped his arm and suspiciously eyed the capsule and beaker of water she held out to him.

"Analgesic," Leia softly explained, reassuring him it wasn't one of the spice capsules. The drofic remained safely in her pocket where she'd put them.

His gaze was wary.

"Han." Her tone brooked no argument. "Please. You're in pain."

He sighed in resignation and to her relief nodded. He propped himself up on his elbows, took the capsule and water from her and swallowed them. Leia retrieved the beaker from him and sat it on the ground. It would be at least a few minutes before the pain-relieving properties kicked in, but meanwhile she would make him as comfortable as possible. She scooted around behind him and propped her legs out across the blanket so that her body was at right angles to his.

"Lie back," she encouraged, easing his shoulders down until his head rested in her lap.

She removed his hand from his temple, laid it across his chest and _shushed_ his mumbled protest. "Let me do that. Relax, Solo. And do as you're told for once."

Han closed his eyes and muttered, "Yes, ma'am."

The moment Leia placed her fingertips to his forehead, Han's face relaxed and his shoulders sagged in release. At first, she thought it was the effects of the analgesic, except she reasoned it couldn't have worked so quickly as the tablet had only just entered his stomach. She raised her fingers from his skin and the scowl returned to his face. She resumed her touch and a soft sigh escaped from his lips.

It was _her_ doing. The simple touch of her fingers on his forehead eased his pain.

With slow, deliberate strokes, Leia brushed her fingers across his forehead, squeezed the bridge of his nose, moved down and pushed tender circles into his temples. Each movement of her fingers drew soft whimpers of relief from Han.

"Better?" she asked, already knowing the answer to the question but wondering exactly what it was that she was doing.

The corner of his mouth lifted and he whispered, "Better."

Leia focused on the tingling sensation in fingertips that increased with each stroke she made across his forehead. The sensation was not intense, more a gently vibrating heat that did not extend past the second joint of each finger. The warmth stretched from the end of her fingers, through her skin, bones and ligaments before dissipating into the rest of her hand and disappearing.

Leia tracked the warm flow back to its source, and as she suspected it came from Han. Although she had no experience with this phenomenon, she instinctively knew what was happening and she tested her theory by _not_ thinking about relieving Han's distress. The tingling current in her fingers immediately stopped and the grimace of pain returned to Han's face. Leia turned quickly turned the flow of energy back on.

Her first reaction was gratitude that she had acquired this skill, then regret that she hadn't learnt how to use it earlier during the war; there were so many battles, so many dying and injured who would have benefited if she had known about her ability to relieve suffering.

But then she reasoned what she was doing now was not much better than what a spice-derivative or mild analgesic could achieve. She could take away Han's pain—the symptom—but she wasn't solving the cause of it. If she wanted to help him, she needed to deal with the source of the headache. Leia had experienced enough headaches herself that she knew where to look.

She closed her eyes to intensify her focus, slowed her breathing and projected a sense of relaxation and comfort towards Han, the way Luke had taught her.

_Relax…Relax…Calm…Peace…_

Han's breathing synced to hers and the weight of his shoulders increased against her thighs as he obeyed her silent suggestion. Leia suspected the blood vessels that encircled his skull were the cause of the headache, and so she called up a view of them in her mind. Disconcertingly, she was able to picture what they looked like. The extracranial arteries were dilated and distended from stress and tension. For Leia, it was as simple as imagining the arteries as they should be, and they reverted to their normal size.

A shuddering groan from Han made her open her eyes again. Head in her lap, his eyes were wide and alert.

"It's gone," he told her, a touch of wonder in his voice. "Just went."

Leia smiled at him and ran her fingers through his hair, continuing to massage his scalp. "The analgesic must have worked."

"That quickly?" he asked sceptically. "And it didn't go gradually. One minute it was there, the next it was gone like—"

"Magic?"

Han's lips contained a hint of wry amusement. "Whatever. As long as it stays away."

He raised his shoulders as he gathered himself to move off her, but Leia pushed him back down again. He didn't resist.

"Why don't you stay there for a while longer," she suggested, continuing to work her fingers back through his thick hair. "Make sure the headache is gone for good."

He closed his eyes and settled against her legs. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he lightly accused.

"And you're not?"

He opened an eye and his mouth twisted into the crooked grin that she had seen so little of lately. "But don't tell anyone. It'll ruin my reputation."

"I won't tell a soul," she promised.

The princess continued with the head massage, enjoying the opportunity to give him her complete attention while at the same time repairing and re-affirming the bond between them. This is what it had been like at the beginning of their intimate relationship. The flight to Bespin had offered them time for love, peace and friendship. And there had been a lot of love.

Han had awakened a sexuality in the princess that she been ignoring for years. Leia's fanciful smile soured at the thought that they hadn't successfully made love since Bespin—over ten months ago. There had been numerous attempts since his rescue from Tatooine, but they had not consummated their love for each other. She knew the cause of this was in his mind, not his body, and she wondered if the revelation that she was Vader's daughter had also tainted the way Han now looked at her.

Leia suddenly had the distinct impression that someone was watching them. She raised her eyes from Han's face. The young man she had seen in the forest clearing earlier that afternoon was on the other side of the fire. His transparent image glowed and flickered; it was another vision.

Leia stared at the familiar-looking stranger, trying to remember where it was she knew him from. He smiled at her sadly, a smile reminiscent of the one Han had given her as he had been lowered into the pit of the carbon-freezing chamber on Cloud City. The memory of that moment was so horrific, Leia had to look down at Han's peaceful face in her lap to reassure herself that was all in the past. He was here with her now. Safe.

When she looked back through the fire, the image of the young man was gone.

"Leia?" Han's sleepy voice captured her attention. "C'm back t'bed."

Han had drifted off to sleep. Leia smiled fondly at his mildly erotic request and wondered if she might be able to share his dream with him. It had been far too long since she had been intimate with him.

Leia closed her eyes and focused on Han again, silently chanting to him: _Relax…Relax…Calm…Peace…_

She identified the boundary of his consciousness as if it was a physical object and moved towards it.

_Relax…_she repeated to him. _Relax…_

The outer, cloud-like layers of his consciousness drifted around her as she gently entered his mind, and she recognised he was in the semi-conscious state between sleep and wakefulness. His body reflexively stiffened in response to sensing another sentient in his mind. His barriers came on-line, trying to push her out. Leia soothed him, reassured him, told him she loved him, told him _how_ _much_ she loved him, and that she would never hurt him.

There was a small jolt and Leia could feel that Han had accepted her. It was easier than she had expected, and she hadn't needed the spice to enhance her Force abilities.

Floating on the edge of his consciousness, Leia revelled in the simple pleasure of being surrounded by Han. She sensed the familiar patterns in the Force he made and displaced, but she also became aware of the rhythm of his mind. She discerned six delineating bands of brainwaves, synchronised electrical impulses linking and cohering with each other through harmonics, as if they were musical notes in a symphony. The lower frequency waves generated a deep, penetrating drumbeat; the upper register had a high-pitched flute-like quality.

Wary of disturbing him, Leia cautiously stretched out her feelings in attempt to make sense of his brainwaves. As she focused, she perceived the flaws in the rhythm; there was a disruption to the balance, like sections of an orchestra playing out of sync with each other. The mid-frequency band appeared to be the most disruptive. Confused snatches of thought crackled past her, hurtling along synapses at furious speed. Vivid memories and emotions indiscriminately welled up; Leia could only guess what his mind would be like if he was fully awake. The idea of having to endure such turmoil, even as an observer, was unnerving.

Leia couldn't detect anything that resembled Han dreaming about being in bed with her. She gave up her half-hearted attempt to read his mind, retreated from the deeper recesses and chose to enjoy the sensation of being surrounded by him. It reminded her of their brief time together on Bespin.

The night they had spent in the opulent stateroom had been the most incredible night of her life. They had made love throughout the evening, luxuriating in the chance to be on their own after being cooped up in the _Falcon_ with Chewbacca and Threepio for so many days. They had eaten the meal delivered to their rooms in the centre of the enormous bed, sitting naked and cross-legged across from each other. And then they had made love again. It had been obvious that they were deeply in love with each other.

The memories of that night and the passion they had shared were enough to make Leia tremble, and she sent Han a burst of happiness and desire.

Han unexpectedly stirred from her lap, breaking the link between. He shuffled on his backside to a sitting position next to her. No traces of drowsiness marred his features or movements. He lifted a hand to her face, cupped her cheek, leaned forward and kissed her. The kiss was gentle and undemanding, but his breath was short when they parted, his eyes sparkling.

Leia swivelled her knees around and leaned into him, returning the kiss but without wanting to get her hopes up. Too many occasions had started just this way and gone nowhere.

Han pulled her closer and he lowered his back to the ground, taking her with him. Leia gave herself to the moment and to Han. She ran her fingers through his hair as she splayed herself across his chest, slipped her legs on either side of his hips. His body was warm and hard beneath hers, and her heart skipped a beat when she felt the onset of his arousal against her upper thigh. Her instinct was to increase the pace, take advantage of the situation while it was there on offer. It had been such a horribly long time.

Leia ran her hand across the front of his trousers, tracing the outline of his erection as his mouth did incredible things to her ear and neck. She pushed herself up on his chest, slipped back to straddle his thighs and started work on releasing his belt buckle. His hands came down over hers as she began unfastening his trousers. Frowning, Leia raised her eyes to his. The eagerness froze in her stomach. Was that it? Over before it had begun?

Han's gentle smile was not enough to quell her disappointment. He moved her slightly but held her in his lap as he sat up and pulled her legs around his waist. He took her face in his hands and kissed her again, unhurriedly working his lips and tongue around her mouth, rekindling her desire.

She understood. He wanted to do this slowly, take their time, revel in the touch of the other like they had the first time and last time they had made love.

Leia surrendered control to Han. She relished the erotic nature of his caresses, the warmth of his mouth against her skin and the probing touch of his hands. Feeling him through the fabric of her clothes, being denied the contact of skin-on-skin, only made her want him more.

She wholeheartedly responded to his unspoken suggestions, his touch; a woman bewitched, a woman who had been waiting for this moment for an eternity. The heat of the fire fuelled her desire, heightening her senses until it felt as if she would be consumed by her need for him.

After what felt like hours of tender agony and teasing, they undressed each other. Naked, Han pulled her back against his chest and kissed her. Then he rolled her over onto the blanket and made love to her.

* * *

It was like a thermal detonator exploding. The ecstasy that shot through his system was electrifying, shattering every nerve until he was a quivering, shuddering mess.

An involuntary cry escaped his lips and he held her tighter, burrowing his body further into hers and dropping his forehead to her neck as he continued thrusting. Calves wrapped against the back of his thighs, arms encircling his back, Leia pulled him down, pressing her breasts to his chest as he supported his weight on his knees and elbows. They held each other like that, a lovers' embrace, savouring the dizzying high and the bond that they shared.

When his breath had returned, Han whispered into her neck, "I love you."

The side of her face was pressed against his hair, and she turned to kiss his ear but said nothing. He moved his head up and rubbed his cheek against hers. Her face was wet with tears. He pulled back slightly; she was crying.

Something cracked within his chest. It no longer mattered who her father was. This was Leia in his arms. A person in her own right, not defined by her parentage. How could he have ever doubted his love for this woman?

Han held her tighter and promised her would always love her. No matter what.


	9. Chapter 9

**Mind Tricks**

**by Corellian Blue**

_(first published 2003, revised 2016, 2020)_

_Warnings: mental health issues, language_

_**IX**_

* * *

Han was uncertain what woke him, only that a spasm had thrown him upright in his bunk. His eyes were wide and alert, his consciousness rigid, nerves raw and on edge: the same way he'd felt since the hibernation sickness. He searched his mind, found no trace of nightmares. His pulse was slow and steady, his skin free of the cold sweat that accompanied came with his terrors.

The place next to him on the bunk—the place where Leia usually slept—was empty. A hollowness ached inside his chest, emotion prickling his eyes. He had thought they had fallen asleep together, but not finding her here made him doubt his recollection.

Before they had fallen asleep, he thought they had made love. Made love twice. Once outside on the blanket in front of the fire, and then after he'd fed his hungry stomach, here in their bunk.

He could taste her on his lips, smell her on his skin. His memories were so vibrant, he could've sworn they were real, that it had happened. The reality was, he couldn't rely on anything lately, not his body, not his mind. For all he knew, making love to Leia had been a dream, a fantasy that continued to elude his touch as it had for two long years.

Han scratched at the patch of synthflesh under his chin, stopped when he remembered what had caused his injury. He glanced at his gun-rig sitting on the desk amidst Leia's clothes. The medpack, and the drofic capsules, were no longer on the desk. He supposed Leia had removed them.

He wondered where she was, if she was deliberately avoiding him. His internal chrono told him night had fallen on the Endor moon and dawn was only a few hours away. His stomach tightened then sank at the thought that Leia had again chosen not to sleep with him. Again.

He was fucking this up, couldn't believe how bad he was fucking this up.

He had wasted two years of his life following Leia around like a kelipie pup, doing everything he could to attract her attention while continuing to push her away; threatening to leave the Alliance whenever he realised his efforts to entice her were proving successful; that she possibly felt for him exactly what he felt for her.

Despite his best, fucked up efforts, Leia had not been deterred. Even his intimidating behaviour after their escape from Hoth—frustrated, suggestive words in the cockpit and cornering her in the circuitry bay—had not frightened her off. Once they had become isolated from the rest of the galaxy, from the Alliance and all the trappings of responsibility and appearance, they had dropped all pretence and revealed their true feelings and intent.

Han had never wanted that flight to Bespin to end.

But it had…and here he was again, continuing to fuck things up.

He kicked the covers off and padded into the adjoing refresher. He relieved himself into the sani unit, washed his hands at the basin without looking at his reflection in the mirror.

Then he went looking for Leia.


	10. Chapter 10

**Mind Tricks**

**by Corellian Blue**

_(first published 2003, revised 2016, 2020)_

_Warnings: mental health issues_

_**X**_

* * *

The tea had cooled in the mug. Leia winced at the bitter taste as she sipped from it, but it wasn't enough to distract her from the datapad. For the past hour, she had been sitting at the dejarik game table as she studied her notes, trying to make sense of what had happened to Han—what she had done to Han—earlier in the night.

She could understand how she had managed to cure his headache. Although inexperienced in the ways of the Force, it had been natural for her to want to relieve his pain. But it was mystifying as to what had cured his impotence.

It was more than mystifying. Much more. Her tears had been testimony to how she'd been affected by the love they had shared; it had overwhelmed her. Not only had she been sexually satisfied, making love with Han had provided her with an emotional fulfilment and release that she had not experienced for ten long months.

After they had made love, Han had hungrily eaten the food he had previously left untouched, and then they had made love again in their cabin. He had been like a new man—or the man she had known and loved on Bespin.

They had shared a water 'fresher after the lovemaking, before falling asleep wrapped around each other. Leia had slept soundly until Han's body heat had become too intense for her and she had slipped from his arms.

Awake, it had been difficult to calm her mind and return to sleep. The night had turned out so differently to what she had expected. She had to understand what had happened to him, if she had played any part. Hoping the answer might lie in the medical information she had compiled on the datapad, she had dressed in one of Han's shirt and gone out to sit in the main hold.

The more Leia read, the more engrossed she became. If Han had a chemical imbalance, then his dopamine and serotonin levels may have been affected. As his sexual response towards her had happened quickly, and only after she had entered his mind, Leia _knew_ she had been responsible.

She wondered if she had transferred _her_ own memories of making love with him and if that had finally sparked his desire. She was leaning towards this theory until she discovered that serotonin was concentrated in the hypothalamus, and the hypothalamus was the control centre for, amongst other things, the sex drive. If she had inadvertently helped increase his serotonin levels, perhaps she stimulated the hypothalamus and aroused him sexually. It was dangerously thrilling to imagine that she might be able to give him pleasure this way, and she eager to further explore her abilities.

Leia's musings came careening to an abrupt halt. She had been aware of the Force—burbling away in the background along with the _Falcon's_ environmental systems, a constant flow of life—but had been startled from her study by a gap that had appeared in the Force. It reminded her of what she had experienced at the site of Vader's pyre.

She looked up from the datapad and came face-to-face with the same young man she had seen in the clearing and who had later appeared outside earlier in the evening.

The young man stood on the other side of the hold and he smiled at her as their eyes met. For a moment, Leia thought he was real—a living, breathing sentient—until she reminded herself that the young man had no corporeal substance, a flickering, glowing image. He was a vision, like the other times he had appeared. Leia wondered what link she had to him that compelled this vision to re-appear and haunt her.

The young man's gaze broke from hers, and he glanced around at the bulkheads and the tech station as he moved towards her, his face showing genuine interest and then his nose screwed up in obvious disgust at the state of the _Falcon_.

The vision was interacting with his surroundings. This was no Force-image from the past or future. This was a spirit.

The pulse throbbed in Leia's throat as the ghost came to a halt in front of the game table, gave her a nervous smile.

"You remind me of her," he said softly. "And not just physically. I should have realised it long ago. But perhaps it was just as well I didn't."

Leia swallowed.

_This is Vader,_ she reasoned, trying to calm her racing heart and repress the urge to rush as far away as she could. _Vader _before_ he became Vader._ _And I remind him of my mother._

Even though her mother had died in childbirth, Leia had vague memories of her. She had never questioned how she managed to have images and feelings of a woman she never knew, a woman who had never held her. But Leia had been intrinsically connected to her mother. Here now was another link to that woman; she shared memories with this man.

Leia studied the apparition of the sharp-featured Jedi. Luke had told her about the visions he'd had of Obi-Wan Kenobi, so she wasn't that a Force-user as powerful as Vader would continue to live in the Force after his death and materialise in whatever guise he wished.

It was curious that he had chosen to appear as a young man. His intent was to appear less of a threat, to make things easier for her. And damn him if it wasn't working. Leia found herself thinking of him by his original name, not _Darth Vader_ but the name Luke had told her about: _Anakin Skywalker. Father…_

"Leia?"

The sound of Han's voice momentarily startled her. Han was walking up the ring corridor towards her, naked, his hair sleep-tousled and awry. Out of the corner of her eye, Leia saw Anakin Skywalker's ghost shimmer, then disappear.

Han scuffed a hand through his hair. "What are you doin' out here?"

His mood had changed again. She could tell just by looking at him. If she had done something to help him, it wasn't permanent. Her anger towards Vader resurfaced, rumbling and boiling in her veins.

"I couldn't sleep," she explained, rising to meet him. "I didn't want to wake you. Thought I'd catch up on some work."

"Oh."

She stopped in front of him, raised her hand to his temple and pushed her fingers through his hair. "How's your head? Headache hasn't come back?"

His eyes sparked, as if she had confirmed something to him that he had been unsure about.

"I feel good."

Leia smiled at his reply, but only took it to mean the headache hadn't re-appeared.

"Why don't you go back to bed," she suggested. "I'll be there shortly." She wanted to finish her research and come up with a plan to about how to further help him. And if Vader materialised again, she intended finding out what he wanted and tell him a thing or two.

Han averted his eyes and mumbled, "Do you have the drofic?"

Leia removed her hand from his hair, trying to keep the delight from her face while at the same time hoping he would lift his gaze to hers. "They're in the pocket of the shirt I wore yesterday. I think I left it on your desk."

He nodded, then looked up at her from beneath his brows, the corner of his mouth twitching guiltily.

Leia took his hand in hers. "Go back to bed. I'll bring you some water."

He unsuccessfully tried to lift his mouth into a smile. "Thanks."

She kissed his cheek and let him go, taking her time to admire the departing view as he padded back down the corridor to their cabin. Relief and exhilaration hit her once he was out of sight. She hated seeing him so out of sorts with himself. With him back on the medication, it would at least provide him with some respite and hopefully make him receptive to other more permanent therapies.

When she brought him a mug of water, he was sitting on the edge of the bunk, staring at the desk. He wasn't holding the drofic packet, so she assumed he'd been hesitant about getting them from her shirt. He came out of his daze as she entered the cabin. Without saying a word, she retrieved the medication from her shirt, handed him a capsule and the mug. He shut his eyes, obediently swallowed the drug and the water and with eyes closed, sat there and waited. Leia took the mug from him and set it on the desk, silently waiting with him.

A few minutes later, Han opened his eyes. The change in him was not as palpable as she'd previously noticed, and she assumed the drug hadn't quite kicked in yet. His lopsided grin wasn't working properly either, but he tried it anyway.

"Did we make love last night?" Han softly asked her.

To his surprise, Leia leaned down and kissed him gently on the mouth. She pulled back, kissed the tip of his nose and smiled.

"You bet we did," she replied. "Twice."

His grin wavered. "And…?"

"And it was fantastic," she assured him. "And you weren't even on the medication."

A trace of discomfort crossed his face, but the long-forgotten Solo confidence surfaced. "Well, what did you expect?"

Leia fondly laughed. "From you, Sweetheart, nothing less."

Chuckling with her, Han placed his palm on the side of her face and drew her down to briefly kiss her again. She touched his hair as they parted, realised she would rather cuddle up with him and enjoy his mood then continue studying her datapad. And receiving late night visits from ghosts.

"Why don't you lay back and get some rest," she told him, reinforcing her suggestion with subtle encouragement through the Force. She prodded the idea to him that he was tired. "I'll pack up and be back in a moment."

Han yawned, lifting his head up so the underside of his chin was visible. The moment she saw the flaking patch of synthflesh, Leia knew how his injury had been caused. Her previous vision was correct. Han had burnt himself on the muzzle of his blaster. He'd been trying to kill himself.

If she hadn't been researching psychological disorders, she might have reacted the way she had previously: with revulsion and denial. She now knew that some sufferers of post-traumatic stress resorted to suicide; attempting to kill himself though horrific was, sadly, not unusual.

Leia pieced together the images and feelings from the different visions she'd experienced and worked out what had happened. Han had gone to the clearing to see the remains of Vader. His anger had tripped off a barrage of blaster fire towards the pyre, then he'd turned the weapon back on himself. The heat from the muzzle had burnt his skin, but that was extent of injury.

Leia wanted to know why he hadn't succeeded. He'd pulled the trigger—she'd seen that much through the Force. Something had stopped him. Or saved him.

Her need to wrap him in her embrace became imperative, to hold him and protect him, to right the wrongs of the past. At the same time, spikes of black hatred pierced her heart. Hatred towards the being who had driven Han to despair.

_Vader. My father._

Han stretched out on the bunk, propping his head back on this on the pillows as if he didn't have a care in the galaxy. The obvious change in his demeanour quelled the hatred boiling within Leia. The drofic was working.

More request than instruction, Han told her, "Don't be long, Princess."

Leia kissed his cheek and promised, "I won't."


	11. Chapter 11

**Mind Tricks**

**by Corellian Blue**

_(first published 2003, revised 2016, 2020)_

_Warnings: mental health issues_

_**XI**_

* * *

The ghost of Anakin Skywalker was waiting for Leia when she returned to the hold. He was standing next to the game table, scanning the screen of her datapad.

_Prying._

Leia's eyes hardened. This man—vision—ghost—did not deserve her time let alone her respect. She had better things to do. Like shut down the datapad and return to Han's side.

"What do you want?" Leia instinctively growled. "No, don't answer that because I'm not interested. I'm not going to talk to you, and I don't want to listen to anything you have to say."

The wry smirk Skywalker gave her only served to further infuriate her. Leia snatched the datapad away from his view.

"I don't want you here, understand?" Hanwouldn't want Vader in the _Falcon_; he'd have a fit. "Leave. Disappear. Dematerialise. Go back to wherever it is you now belong. I'm hoping it's hell!"

The man's sardonic grin persisted, and Leia turned her back on him, checking to see that the information on the datapad was still intact, that he hadn't been tampering with it.

"How's Han?"

Leia stared at the datapad screen, refused to look at him. "Why do you care?"

"I feel responsible—"

She rounded on him, spitting out, "_Responsible_?"

Responsible for the millions who had died and suffered through his actions, his instructions and by his own hand.

Responsible for her own torment and interrogation on the Death Star.

Responsible for the torture of Han. For using him to test the capability of the carbon freezing chamber.

_Responsible_?

Vader had hurt, destroyed or taken away _everything_ Leia had ever loved or held dear.

Leia could feel the flash of her anger freezing into cold, hard revulsion, and she fought to reel herself back in before it engulfed her. Luke had warned her against giving in to hatred. She needed to practice self-control.

She told him, "After everything you've done, you have no _right_ to be concerned for Han. I won't let you."

Skywalker's voice was calm and reasonable. "Is his burn healing?"

The blood drained from Leia's face. She didn't want to ask, but the words came out regardless, bitter and edged with disbelief. "What do you know about it?"

Skywalker said nothing, but his eyes spoke volumes. He'd been there, at the pyre, when Han had turned up on the speeder bike. He'd seen it happen.

"You were there," Leia accused. Her anger flared, a red darkness momentarily obscuring her vision. "What did you do?!" Then just as quickly she knew what had happened. He had stopped it. He had saved Han.

The ghost of Anakin Skywalker—her father—seemed abashed. "Child's play," he explained dismissively. "A simple trick. Just flicked on the blaster's safety."

A chill crept up Leia's spine and she folded her arms across her chest, a pathetic effort to fight off the cold. She couldn't look at him, instead turned her gaze towards the deckplates.

"You'll heal Han, Leia," Skywalker told her gently. "You've already taken the first steps."

Leia looked at her father and his grin returned.

"Believe in yourself," he urged. "It's as simple as my trick with the blaster. Love him, and it will guide you."

She hoarsely whispered, "What could _you_ know about love?"

The ghost's face became solemn. "To hate, one must first know love."

Leia held herself tighter. She didn't want to hear any more. "Have you finished?"

He smiled at her sadly. The spirit of Anakin Skywalker disappeared.

Leia inhaled deeply, anxiously trying to compose herself.

_Don't think about it,_ she told herself. _Don't think about it, now or later._

She didn't want to imagine that her father—_Vader!—_might once have loved her mother. At the same time, she couldn't help but acknowledge that she and Luke were the result of the love that Padme and Anakin had shared.

But why had he saved Han? After the disregard and antipathy Vader had shown towards the Corellian, why would Skywalker's ghost save Han? To ingratiate himself with his daughter? To make her feel indebted to him?

Leia flicked off the datapad and dropped it on the tech station console. No matter why it had happened, Han was alive and for that she was undeniably grateful.

Han was waiting for her in her cabin. Now, more than ever, he needed her. She could help him; she knew she could, because she loved him.

She left the hold and returned to her lover's side.


	12. Chapter 12

**Mind Tricks**

**by Corellian Blue**

_(first published 2003, revised 2016, 2020)_

_Warnings: mental health issues_

_**XII**_

* * *

Han was sleeping peacefully when Leia entered the cabin, the whisper of the hatch as it opened failing to wake him. He was usually a light sleeper but as he hadn't had many restful nights since his release from the carbonite, she wasn't surprised that she had not roused him. Not even the ambient light spilling across his face from the corridor disturbed him. She wondered if the combination of spice and Force-suggestion had placed him into a deep sleep.

Leia closed the hatch and undressed while her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Han had pulled a light cover over himself before falling asleep and she lifted it up and climbed over him to get to her side of the bunk.

Han turned in his sleep, draped an arm across her waist and pulled her into his body. Leia snuggled into him backwards, enjoying the warmth and touch of his skin. The movement of her backside against his groin aroused more than just his mind and she spent a few minutes silently murmuring ideas of relaxation to him. His breathing deepened and the weight of his forearm increased across her waist.

When she was certain he was ensconced in sleep, Leia allowed her consciousness to drift into his. There was no resistance from him this time, no need to soothe and reassure him, and she assumed the medication had eased her way. What she could sense of his mind also gave her comfort. His thoughts appeared more ordered than they previously had, and the only strong emotion she could discern was contentment.

Recalling the research she had compiled on the datapad, Leia focussed on the names of the chemical neurotransmitters that appeared to be partially responsible for the chemical imbalance in his brain: _serotonin, dopamine…_

A wave of uncertainty gripped her. What did she know about psychotherapy? These were just words to her. Words she had known but barely understood before this morning, and how much could she have expected to learn after only a few hours of research? What did she honestly believe she could do to help Han?

Leia stumbled, lost concentration and found herself back outside Han's mind again. Cursing herself for rushing, Leia eased her way back in and decided to take things slower and to start with the things she was certain of.

_I love you,_ her mind whispered to his. _I love your confidence and your belief in yourself. I love your loyalty to your friends, your heroism in the face of adversity, and your need to protect those you care about._

_I love you because you'll always be there for me. You always _have_ been there for me, right from the beginning, and every time I tried to push you away and deny my feelings for you._

_I love that you think you're tougher and harder than you really are. Deep down, you're softest, kindest man I've ever known._

_I love your eyes and the way you look at me. I love your laugh, your smile. I love what that smile does to me._

_And I love the way you love me._

Leia knew which path to take.

There was nothing specific she had to concentrate on, no chemical levels to raise or block, no psychological terms she had to remember or magic to conjure up. It was less exact than that and yet it would be far more effective than science.

She stretched out her consciousness, mapping and weaving it over and through Han's, until they were loosely enmeshed, as if she was making love to his mind. And then she gave her strength and her love to him again.

_I love you. I love your confidence and your belief in yourself. I love your loyalty to your friends, your heroism…_


	13. Chapter 13

**Mind Tricks**

**by Corellian Blue**

_(first published 2003, revised 2016, 2020)_

_Warnings: mental health issues_

_**XIII**_

* * *

Leia found herself humming as she put the finishing touches to her hair and couldn't help smirking at her reflection in the mirror. She didn't believe she had ever hummed before, not even as a young princess growing up in the peaceful grounds of the palace at Aldera.

She had every reason to be this content. She and Han had spent the last three days relaxing on the Endor moon, exploring the dells and streams around the _Falcon_, recovering from the horrors of the last ten months, and re-capturing the intimacy between them that they had discovered on the flight to Bespin.

Leia had also been providing Han with her version of therapy, healing him through the Force. At first, she attempted the process only when he was asleep, but as it appeared to be working for him, two days ago she had tried it on him when he was awake. They had been out for a stroll, enjoying the afternoon sunshine, when she had surreptitiously entered his mind and commenced the healing process. She knew the spice-derivative had eased her way in and made him more receptive to the Force, but she'd had second thoughts about what she was doing when his eyes had widened, and he had sharply looked at her.

Neither of them had said a word. Through silent encouragement and reassurances, she was able to convince him to let her stay.

With each therapy session that she gave him, his condition improved remarkably. He was still on a ten-hourly dosage of the drofic, and she suspected he probably should stay on the medication for the next few weeks. But she felt more far positive about his prognosis for recovery.

The princess secured the end of the single braid of her hair and straightened the collar of her shirt. It amazed her that she could start her ablutions before Han and yet he always finished at least a good twenty minutes before she did. Admittedly, he didn't worry about his hair the way Leia did about her own—he hardly combed it—or take time choosing which combination of shirt and trousers to wear, but he did have to shave. As it was, this morning he had already headed out of their cabin by the time Leia had finished in the 'fresher.

Leia looked at the state of the cabin. It was a mess. Clothes lay strewn across the desk and chair, mugs of forgotten caf rested on any available surface, the closet door was open, and the bunk unmade. It seemed they'd been relaxing just a little too much. As today was their last full day planet-side, she knew they would have to start getting back into some sort of routine, especially if they were going to share accommodation.

They had never discussed future living arrangements. During the flight to Bespin, his cabin had become _their_ cabin, but following Han's rescue from Tatooine he had taken to sleeping with her in her room onboard the Mon Cal cruiser, _Home One_. It made sense to her that he should move in with her. Whether she would be able to secure a suite with a large bed needed to be seen.

Leia hoped Han would agree to move in with her, but she was uncertain how the Alliance hierarchy would take to the Princess of Alderaan sharing her bed with a former smuggler, even if he was now a field-commissioned general. Although she and Han had done nothing to hide their relationship, neither had they officially declared themselves as a couple. High Command may have appreciated Han's skill as a pilot and smuggler, but she knew most of its members had no regard for him as a person. She and Han were in for interesting times ahead as the Alliance came to terms with their relationship.

But first, she realised as she made a half-hearted attempt to collect the bed covers off the deck, they had some cleaning up issues to deal with.

Leia's stomach grumbled hungrily. She wasn't used to sleeping in so late and her body was having trouble adjusting to the pattern of late meals she and Han were keeping. She dropped the covers back on the bunk and decided tidying up could wait for later. They only had one day left of rest and relaxation, and she intended spending and enjoying every available minute with Han. She headed off toward the galley, hoping that Han would have breakfast ready for her when she arrived.

Neither breakfast nor Han were in the galley and she wondered where he'd gone. He hadn't even made their ritual mug of caf.

Leia attuned her senses to the Force to seek him out. Her instincts had her moving towards the _Falcon's_ entrance hatch before she realised it was open.

Then she heard it. The horrifyingly familiar sound of a laser blast—Han's blaster. The blood froze in her veins. For one terrible moment she was unable to move. Her heart lurched sickeningly in her chest, the adrenaline propelling her forward and onwards.

She hit the ramp at a dead run.


	14. Chapter 14

**Mind Tricks**

**by Corellian Blue**

_(first published 2003, revised 2016, 2020)_

_Warnings: mental health issues; suicide attempt_

_**XIV**_

Han's eyes were wide and unblinking as he squeezed the trigger. His hand was steady, his aim true, and it was with great satisfaction that he hit the target.

The rock fragmented into a hundred pieces. Readjusting the aim of the blaster he held from his out-stretched arm, he fired twice more, destroying another two rocks before pulling his weapon up and returning it to his holster. Only then did he allow a slight smile to turn his lips.

This morning he had awoken with the urge to try out his speed draw. He hadn't worn his blaster since his unsuccessful suicide attempt, but he'd felt now was the right time to wear it again and test his aim. The tremor in his hand had not re-appeared since he'd gone back onto the drofic and he'd felt confident he would not be enticed to blow his head off. The medication, and Leia's _whisperings_ in his mind, were working. He was nearly back to normal, back to feeling like his old self. He'd even come to terms with Leia's heritage, and if her use of the Force was anything to go by, was even a little grateful for it.

_Leia's whisperings…_

He wasn't quite sure that was an apt description of what she was doing to him, but it was effective. The spice may have straightened out his thoughts and calmed his anxiety, however it was Leia's _mumbo-jumbo_ that seemed to be helping the most.

He knew if he hadn't been so desperate for help, he might have resented her poking around in his mind. He assumed the drofic had made him receptive to and tolerant of the Force as that was a feature of spice. He didn't know _what_ it was she was doing but each time she did, it he felt stronger and healthier. He'd felt so good that this morning he'd decided not to take another one of the drofic capsules, despite being due for more medication. His success with the target practice had vindicated his decision.

There were three rocks left on the fallen tree. Han drew his blaster, an explosion of muscle and pure skill, and the remaining rocks blew apart like the others. He straightened his pose, twirled the blaster around his finger and re-holstered it with deliberate flourish. He couldn't contain the grin that lit his face.

A tickle at the back of his neck made him aware that he had an audience. He turned towards the _Falcon_. Leia was standing at the bottom of the ramp and although she was a good thirty metres away, he could tell from the way she held herself that she was recovering from a bout of apprehension.

He could guess why she might have reacted that way. He rubbed the pink skin under his chin where the burn had been and suddenly felt the need to tell her what had happened, even if she already suspected. It was all part of the healing process. He might even assure himself—her—both of them that it would never happen again.

Leia did not move from her position near the ramp as he strode across the clearing towards her. Her stance relaxed and the touch of a smile became visible. By the time he reached her side, a self-consciousness had settled over him and he felt almost embarrassed that he'd tested his speed draw without telling her.

Leia was the first to speak. "You're in a good mood this morning."

Han tried not to look abashed and he shrugged a shoulder. "Yeah."

Her lips twitched in amusement. "Show me that last move again."

He dipped his eyes, turning slightly so he wouldn't be aiming at her. He went through the drill of the speed draw, withdrawing the blaster even faster than he had earlier. Held the weapon steady for a few moments to prove to himself that he could, then rotated it twice on the axis of the trigger guard and returned it to the holster. As soon as the blaster hit the bottom of the holster, he withdrew it again, spun it three times around his finger and returned it to the rig.

Turning back to face her with a self-satisfied gleam in his eye, he winked, and Leia chuckled with delight.

"Now you're just showing off," she gently reproved.

A smile slid up the right side of his face and he agreed, "I am. Because I can."

Leia wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face to his shoulder and hugging him tightly. He returned the embrace, using her strength and love to find the resolve to tell her.

As if she was reading his mind, she said, "You haven't worn your blaster for the last four days."

Han laid his cheek against hers. "I haven't." A tightness gripped his throat as he told her, "I couldn't."

She pulled back from the embrace, reached up and tenderly stroked the underside of his jaw. "Because of this?"

_She knows._

He swallowed deeply, struggling with the constriction and unable to voice what he felt.

_She knows…and she still loves me._

He wasn't surprised that she knew. After her skill with the Force over the last few days, nothing about Leia surprised him.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Leia's eyes revealed only wonder. "Sorry?"

Han grimaced. "For being so stupid."

She took his hand and squeezed it. "You're not stupid." She pushed her other hand through his hair, grinned at him cheekily. "Perhaps a bit nerf-headed at times, but not stupid."

For a moment he shared her grin, then his face became starkly serious. "I love you, Leia."

She held his gaze with the same intensity. "I love you too. And remember that I can't live without you."

He took her in his arms again, resting his head against hers, reaffirming his words with his actions. "I'll never leave you again, Princess. I promise."


	15. Chapter 15

**Mind Tricks**

**by Corellian Blue**

_(first published 2003, revised 2016, 2020)_

_**XV**_

* * *

The princess and her Corellian held each other for what seemed an interminable amount of time. When they reluctantly separated from the embrace, they kept their contact by leaving an arm around the other's waist. Leia closed her eyes, taking a moment to breath in the incredible sense of well-being and relief. Han pulled her into a loose hug again and kissed the top of her head before releasing her. She took his hand, entwined her fingers in his and smiled up at him.

"So, General," she began, "seeing as you're in such a good mood, what would you like to do on your last day of leave?"

His lips twitched in thought, but the look in his eyes signalled he already knew what he wanted. "Spend it in bed with you."

Her giggle belied the shocked gasp she made. "On such a beautiful day? With all this sunshine?"

"There's something more beautiful I'd rather enjoy."

The sensuous rumble of his voice caused adrenaline to spike inside Leia, but she teased him anyway. "_All_ day? Do you think you're up to it?"

He squeezed her fingers and agreed, "Probably not. But it'd be fun practising."

Silently agreeing with him, Leia chuckled. "_Practising?_"

"Sure. Practice makes perfect."

As if giving his proposal serious consideration, the princess laid a finger against her cheek and pursed her lips. "It's a tempting offer."

Han puffed himself up in mock-pride. "Of course, it is. It's with me."

Leia rolled her eyes. _This_ was the Solo she loved and remembered.

The gold flecks in his eyes seemed to spark when she agreed to his suggestion and he wrapped his arms around her again. Then she added, "I'll need some food first."

"I thought we'd live on love alone, Sweetheart."

She laughed and wriggled from his embrace, keeping him at arms' length and wagging a finger in his face. "Food first. Then love."

He couldn't _not_ agree with her. It was nearly mid-morning and they had not eaten since the previous evening.

"All right," he acceded. "Her Highness wants food, so Her Highness gets food."

"Lots of food," Leia stressed.

Han grinned. "Lots of food. And my treat." He ushered her to the fallen log they had been using as a backrest for their makeshift camp these last few days. "Just take a seat here and I'll bring you out a breakfast that'll make your mouth water."

She accepted the offer of his hand and sat primly on the ground. "Lots of food," she reminded him.

"Yes, lots of food." He raised his eyebrows suggestively. "Cos you're gonna need it to keep your strength up."

Leia pouted. "Promises, promises."

Han leaned down and kissed her softly on the mouth. "For you, Princess, always."

He placed a lingering kiss on her cheek and left her with a parting wink before heading up the _Falcon's_ ramp.

Leia leaned back against the log and stretched elaborately in the morning sunshine. The air smelt crisp and fresh, and a gentle breeze rustled through the trees. It was going to be another beautiful day and she decided to enjoy it now why she had the opportunity. Who knew how much of the sun she'd get to see if Han had his way?

Relaxed, Leia instinctively opened herself to the Force, her mind drifting on the gentle ebb and flow. She bolted upright when she sensed him again.

"You," she snarled at the ghost of Anakin Skywalker. He hadn't re-appeared since that night in the _Falcon's_ hold. "I told you before. I don't want to talk to you. I don't want you in my life."

The young Skywalker tried a disarming smile. "I wanted to see if you'd changed your mind."

Leia got to her feet as quickly as she could, amazed at his gall.

"I haven't. And I won't." She had wanted to add, _"Ever!"_ She wasn't convinced she could live up to the declaration. There may come a time when she would be comfortable talking to him. It just wasn't something she could deal with now.

"Han seems to be more like his old self."

Leia closed her eyes, uncomfortable with the familiar way he spoke about Han. The thought that he purported to know Han's personality and behaviour was disturbing, let alone the fact this ghost was able to appear in her life whenever he felt like it. She hoped she wouldn't have to contend with her birthfather appearing or prying on her at intimate moments?

_Please, _she thought. _Just leave me alone. Leave me be._ She, like Han, needed time to recover.

"I'll go," he softly told her.

His words penetrated the shields Leia had drawn up around her. She opened her eyes as the warmth returned to her body. Anakin was still watching her intensely, though his gaze kept straying to the ground.

"I understand. If you ever change your mind, child, I'll be around."

'_Child'… _It surprised her, but she found the name almost endearing, not condescending.

"If you ever need me, Leia, just call."

The ghost of Anakin Skywalker disappeared.

Despite the warmth, Leia trembled in the late-morning sunshine. She sat down again, hoping it would be the last she would see of her father. For the time being at least.

She was annoyed and confused that he had felt compelled to contact her to start some sort of a relationship or make amends for the pain he had caused.

It suddenly occurred to Leia that Anakin Skywalker could have played a part in Han's recent target practice. Before, he had almost boasted about the ease it took to flick on the blaster's safety catch. Could he have been responsible for Han's success with his speed draw? Was Han's recovery not as advanced as she'd thought?

_Were you responsible?_ Leia silently asked.

The young male voice that had spoken to her only a few nights ago came in loud and clear; the same voice she had taken heed of when advising her to leave Han be.

_Not me, _he said_. That was you and Han._

_Me and Han…_

Leia reluctantly smiled at the image that suddenly appeared in her mind: she and Han. That was no Force vision, or delusion, or mind trick. That was her reality, her future.

The princess rose to her feet and headed up the ship's ramp to be with the man that she loved. Her stomach rumbled and she added to herself with a smile, _And my breakfast!_

* * *

**Author's note: Nothing changed in this fic. Tweaks, some additional paragraphs.**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing. Onwards to something new... **


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